The Marienburg's Tale
by WilliamJago
Summary: Warhammer Story. Imperial Year 1015. The brig Marienburg set sail for the port of Magritta in 1005...and vannished. Ten years later she is found adrift. What became of her and he crew? Rated T for violence
1. Someone is Missing

Hello everyone. Thought it would be a while before I put another story to paper, but as it is I've got this new idea in my head so I've decided to see how goes. The idea is not yet firmly mapped out so the time between chapters may vary considerably. However I will complete it eventually.

This story is set in the imperial year 1015, following the exploits of a group of sailors who discover a drifting vessel on the high seas. Events seem to go downhill from there.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

-AAA-

_The Tilean Sea, Imperial Year 1005._

"Haul in the foretops!" the boson's voice thundered up to the men in the rigging, audible even over the roar of the pounding waves. Hastening to obey his command the sailors ran nimbly across the rigging, hands and feet sliding into the ropes that served to prevent them losing their footing and plummeting to the deck. Yet despite the ship's wild pitching the men were in no danger. The sailors were all hardened men well seasoned by long careers at sea, they had been over the rigging so many times that they could have performed this task even in pitch darkness.

Jessop gave a satisfied nod as the topsails were wrestled back and tied down for the night. All that now remained was to set the evening watch and he could retire for the night. The First Mate would stand the first nightly watch and the Second Mate would relieve him at midnight. He glanced up at the sky, gratefully noting that it was crystal clear, the fog that had dogged them since leaving port having disapated as dusk approached. This would make navigation by starlight possible, a critical factor at this stage of the voyage.

The _Marienburg_, a two-masted brigantine of the imperial trading fleet had now been at sea for four days following its departure from the Tilean port of Miragliano. Jessop had been glad to leave the place. The port was pleasant enough but it was located next to that desolate, swamp-strewn stretch of land known to locals as the Blighted Marshes. The place had an evil reputation, none who had ventured there ever returned and several fishing boats had disappeared off their coasts in recent months, though whether this were due to foul weather or more sinister causes no one was certain. Watching the dark coastline to starboard as they had cleared the port, Jessop had been relieved to see the dark mass of land fade from view-a feeling he knew to be shared by most of the others on board.

That had been three days ago, three days in which they had covered the full stretch of the Tilean Sea. By morning they would have passed round the dreaded Fools Point Rocks, scene of many a shipwreck, and entered the Southern Sea. From there it would be five days sailing before they came to the Estalian port of Magritta and from there straight on to the Bretonnian port of L'Anguille.

His thoughts were interrupted as a figure emerged from the hatchway below the poop deck. Squinting hard Jessop recognized him as one the traders who had booked passage on the ship prior to its departure. Although Jessop had never been keen about taking on passengers at such short notice the captain had overruled his advice and decided to give the three men passage as far as Magritta. He watched the man stagger wildly across the pitching deck; finally reaching the door that led to the captain's cabin and disappearing from sight.

_What was the captain thinking!_ The man paid too much attention to money. The cargo they were carrying would bring them enough pay to clear his remaining debts and this voyage was very dangerous, with the Fools Point Rocks still on their starboard side and the ever present threat of pirate ships from the feared Arabian port of Sartossa. Every sailor dreaded this crossing and the last thing the crew needed right now was a group of easily panicked landsmen in their midst.

With a weary sigh he turned his attention back to the sailors, "lively there Johnson or I'll have yea in the crow's nest till dawn!"

"Aye sir!" Gritting his teeth the sailor scrambled upwards to join his crewmates. Around them the storm continued to rage, dashing rain and spray into the sailor's faces as they struggled to retain their balance.

-AAA-

Captain Koehler sat in his high back chair, a mug of rum held in his right hand. He was a thickset man in his late forties with dark brown hair and the ruddy complexion that so many of his profession seemed to acquire after many long years spent at sea. The table before him was strewn with various charts and navigation instruments, a series of penciled lines marking their intended course for the next few weeks.

"So what do ya reckon Mr Selby, can we hold this course?"

John Selby the First Mate sat opposite him. Like the captain he was thickset in build and had the same ruddy complexion. The similarity ended there. Some ten years younger than Kohler his face was still relatively smooth with comparatively fewer lines than the captain's. Yet despite his youth the man's jet-black hair was already graying at the temples, a sign of the many years spent beating back and forth across these merciless waters. Like the captain he was an experienced seaman who knew this stretch of sea well and he was one of the few men on the ship to command any respect from the Kohler.

Setting aside the dividers he had been working with moments ago the Mate reached across to the nearby decanter and poured himself a neat measure of rum. "Well the weather's holding for now so I don't see navigation as being a problem. I think we may have drifted slightly off course earlier today but with any luck I reckon we can make that up tonight. If the weather holds we should reach our destination as planned."

"Good, you've heard the reports about the Sartossa pirates. If they are venturing further west now then we need to complete this voyage as quickly as possible."

Selby nodded in agreement. The Arabian pirates had been terrorizing these sea lanes for as long as anyone could remember. Although the Sultan of Araby had made a public condemnation of their activities it was well known that he secretly tolerated them in exchange for a share of their spoils. Darting out of the port in their sleek ships they would prey on lone merchant ships and small convoys that had few or no escorts. Only the large convoys escorted by warships of the imperial navy could make the journey with any measure of safety.

"Perhaps we should have hired on those marines back in Miraglianno, they would have been useful if we ran into trouble."

"Don't fool yourself Selby, those pirate ships carry upwards of sixty men and we could have hired what...ten of those marines. All that would have achieved would have been to drain our rations still further. In any case you know we cannot afford that, it's difficult enough just to keep the crew's wages coming in. Imagine us sailing into port and me having to turn around and say 'Sorry men but I'm afraid we can't pay you the amount we agreed on'-they'd cause trouble pretty quick you mark my words."

Selby forbore to voice his thoughts aloud, he knew the real reason for the decision not to hire armed help-the captain simply hadn't wanted to pay extra money. The crew was well aware that the captain and the ship's two owners, the Raphael brothers from Miraglianno, had a secret arrangement whereby they divided any extra profits between themselves, ensuring very little went to the crew. This was a cause of great discontentment amongst the men but their wages were always paid on time and for the most part they were content to hold their tongues.

"Anyway in three days we'll be safely in port. After that we only have to clear the headland and we'll be safe from them. Speed is our best defence against that scum."

Selby's reply was cut off as the cabin door opened to reveal a tall dark-haired man clad in a rather tattered seaman's cloak. The two men recognised him as John Rhine, one of the traders who had booked passage before the ship had left port. He wore well-made clothes of blue cloth beneath the cloak and after three days at sea he still displayed the pasty look brought on by seasickness. It was a source of much amusement for the crew that from the moment they had left port none of the passengers had come up on deck, had barely even stirred from their cabins.

"Captain I must speak with you now, I cannot find Stephen anywhere."

Kohler regarded him calmly, "what exactly do you mean Mr Rhine?" Stephen was another one of the traders.

"I mean he's disappeared, the man's not in his cabin. I've searched everywhere below decks-he's not with our colleague and none of the sailors I've spoken to have seen him. He's just disappeared."

"I see, and are you sure you checked everywhere below decks? You know you've all been pretty seasick since we left port, maybe he just wandered below and had a little accident."

"I've checked all the areas you permit us to go and he's nowhere to be found. I tell you I've been everywhere and no one has seen him since this afternoon."

"Mmmhmm" Koehler rubbed his chin thoughtfully, "that's certainly unusual," he turned to the Mate, "Selby would you mind telling the bosun to organise a search? If that trader's got himself lost somewhere I suppose we should find him."

"I'll see to it sir, it's about time for my watch anyway."

Koehler nodded, "you go with him Mr. Rhine, and if you find anything let me know."

"Aye sir," Selby closed the door behind him and Koehler finished his tankard. Gathering the decanter he secured it in the drinks cabinet that lay in the corner of the room. This done he removed his jacket and made for the tiny room where his hammock was slung. _I suppose it was too much to hope that this voyage would pass without incident_.

Soon he fell asleep with the gentle pounding of the waves against the hull ringing his ears.

-AAA-

Reaching up Selby jammed his hat further down onto his head in an effort to shield his eyes from the driving rain. "Alright bosun, is that understood?"

"Aye sir, if he's anywhere on board then we'll find him," the bosun turned to the three men he'd selected to form the search party, "right come on you lot, jump to it!"

The men shuffled away awkwardly and Selby noticed that they were acting strangely-keeping together and glancing around nervously. Above the wind and sea he managed to catch part of their whispered conversation. "It's the damn curse again mate, you mark my words."

"I know what ya mean, I swear ever since we left port an that fog closed in…"

"Quiet back there!" the angry bosun's bark swiftly silenced the offending sailors.

Selby gave a weary sigh. He had been hoping that no one would mention that thing again. The crew was already jumpy enough without someone bringing up that matter.

-AAA-

On the forecastle, unnoticed by those on deck, a pair of slanted eyes watched the proceedings with growing interest. As the boatswain's party descended below decks the watcher withdrew its pallid hands from sight, shutting the hatch with a barely audible click.

-AAA-

OOC: As always please read and review.


	2. The Vulture Approaches

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop business and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

-AAA-

_Ten years later, the Southern Sea, 12 miles off the Estalian Coast._

The sun shone brightly, its rays sweeping down the bathe the pale waters of the ocean in a warm glow. Spray flew high as a pod of dolphins momentarily broke the surface, scattering the water in great torrents before disappearing once again into the depths in their endless search for food. Apart from this disturbance there was no sign of life in the vast blue expanse, save for the white sails of the single lonely ship ploughing its way through the waves.

Captain Varus of the merchant ship _Vulture_ took one last look at the horizon and folded his spy glass. "I'm going below for a while Mr. Selby, do let me know if anything happens."

The mate took the proffered spy glass and touched his hand to his forehead in salute, "aye aye sir."

As the captain descended the stairway from the poop deck and opened the door that would lead him down into the corridor that ended with his cabin he espied the figure of Miss Elaine Brionne, one of the passengers who had boarded the ship at Bordeleaux. A slim young woman of about twenty four, she was dressed in a dark green dress with a matching shawl slung over her shoulders and had her long brown hair tied back into a tight bun. In contrast to the other passengers, most of whom were still spending the bulk of their time below decks in a constant state of sickness, this woman had been quick to adapt to the conditions at sea and now made a point of taking a brisk walk around the decks at least three times a day.

Varus stood aside and politely doffed his hat in greeting, "I hope you are well today Miss Brionne."

She nodded curtly, her jade green eyes meeting his with a steady gaze, "I'm fine thank you captain." Varus caught a whiff of her perfume as she brushed past him, its scent hanging in the air momentarily before being blown away by the strong wind that billowed down into the passageway. He watched her go and pulled the door closed behind him, making his way down to his cabin. Pulling the oak door open he removed his hat and cloak, threw them onto a nearby chair and strode over to the heavy oak desk by the stern windows. Opening a draw and removing the ship's log book, he took out a quill and a bottle of ink he began to write.

-AAA-

Elaine strode across the main deck, swaying when the ship pitched upwards sharply as the bow met a particularly large wave. With some difficulty she kept her footing.

"Careful Miss, it's gettin a bit lively up here."

Without acknowledging the warning Ellaine made her way over to the side of the ship, using the railing to steady herself. In the three weeks they had been at sea she had already learnt which areas of the ship were safest and which areas to avoid when the seamen were busy on deck. For a while Ellaine simply contented herself with leaning out over the side, staring down at the sea and watching the flecks of white foam dancing across its deep blue surface. For some reason these waves had always had a soothing effect for her-the sight of these white lines gliding out across the surface, each pattern always slightly different from the last, made it easy to lose oneself in thought. With the strong winds buffeting her face it made for a very tranquil setting. Out here she could finally feel at peace for the first time in many months.

Inhaling deeply the young noblewoman turned around, casting her gaze across the other people currently above decks. Several seamen looked away hastily, caught in the act of staring. Elaine had long since grown accustomed to receiving such stares-after all these men frequently spent months at sea at a time and rarely got to see a woman, so it was hardly surprising that she would turn their heads.

Some of the sailors she recognised, having seen them handling the ship on previous occasions. The boatswain Archie Grunwald stood under the mainmast ordering the men about their duties, his deep voice audible even above the high winds and spray. A tall and thickset man in his mid forties, he possessed the long flaxen blonde hair and deep blue eyes that hinted at a possible Nordic ancestry and when on duty he had a temperament to match. Elaine did not like him much-the man had a direct and no-nonsense attitude and had made it clear from the start that he would not tolerate any misbehaviour from the passengers, even going so far as order them all below decks on numerous occasions. Several times Elaine and her maid had been strolling about the decks when the bosun had ordered them off the deck, telling them not to get in the way. This in itself she could understand, but it was the man's manner that irked her, he always addressed them in an impatient tone with barely concealed irritation, and all too often his manner and language had declined to the point of rudeness, much to the consternation of those on the receiving end of it. The man seemed to dislike having anyone other than the ship's crew on deck and no matter how much they tried to stay out of his way the officer always seemed to find sufficient fault with their presence to order them below decks. Complaints had been made to the captain but if he had spoken to the boatswain on the matter it had achieved nothing.

At the moment he was engaged in conversation with Mr. Jonas, the Second Mate. Slightly shorter than the boatswain, Jonas was considerably thinner, with close-cropped black hair and an ugly scar running across his forehead, doubtless a momento of some past battle or drunken brawl. Something of a recluse amongst the crew the man was rarely to be seen outside his cabin unless on duty, and consequently his skin had a noticeably paler tone than that of the rest of the crew. At present he was holding a large length of parchment, probably a navigational chart, and the two men were locked in deep conversation, making the occasional gesture to port where she knew the distant coast of Estallia lay. Most likely they were having a discussion concerning plans for the remaining stages of the voyage.

Glancing back towards the poop deck she could make out the white haired form of Tomas Selby, the vessel's First Mate. Of average height and build Selby was an amicable fellow who got along well with the passengers and Elaine had made a point of engaging the man in conversation when he was not on duty. Catching sight of her Selby raised his hand in salute and she acknowledged the gesture with a small curtsey. Also on the poop deck were the two seamen in charge of the helm, and a third man whom she recognised as James Atcher.

Atcher was a passenger like herself and had boarded the ship at the same time as she. A tall thin man with short dark hair and rather fine features, his skin was very pale, even more so than that of Jonas. Ellaine knew very little about him save that he was the son of an imperial official, and that he walked with the smooth confident air of one used to getting their own way. Although not a member of the crew he appeared to hold a certain level of influence on board this ship was not afraid to use it when it suited his needs. She had first noticed this when boarding the ship. Initially Captain Varus had been firm in his refusal to allow the passengers to bring weapons on board, whereupon Atcher had taken him aside and, following a brief conversation; he had been allowed to bring several forbidden items on board including a collection of finely made fencing swords. On board his ship the captain was second only to the gods and that Atcher had been able to change his mind that quickly indicated internal influence.

Noticing his gaze fixed upon her Elaine quickly looked away. Only a few years older than her, the young nobleman had made several advances upon her since they had first boarded. She was not oblivious to the man's charms but her intuition told her that a brief liaison was the only thing on his mind and being the daughter of a Bretonnian knight, as her maid was want to point out, her upbringing would not allow her to relinquish her virtue so easily. Consequently she had made a point of avoiding him lately and, thankfully, Atcher had chosen not to pursue the matter-for now at least.

The only other figure of note stood in the shadow of the stairway, its back resting against the woodwork and its gaze focused out to seaward. Like herself and Atcher this man had boarded the ship at Bordeleaux. The last person to arrive before departure, he was also the only passenger aside from Atcher who had been allowed to bring weapons on board. One of these-a curved saber-was currently strapped to his side. He was wrapped tightly in a dark green overcoat, over which was draped a strange cloak of dark green scales, its colour almost a match for that of the ocean. She knew even less about this man than she did about Atcher. Through careful questioning she had discovered that his name was Joseph and that he appeared to know both the captain and boatswain, for he had, on several occasions, been seen in conversation with one or the other during the voyage. This was in fact the only time he had been seen to interact with anyone, the rest of the time he was either in his cabin or strolling about the decks where he took pains to remain aloof. He seemed indifferent towards the other passengers and had refused to be drawn into conversation. On the few occasions anyone had attempted to engage him the man had either walked off without reply or had simply grunted in response until those speaking to him gave up and left. Elaine had received the same treatment herself and had swiftly developed a dislike for his rude manner and unsociable behavior.

By now the sun was descending towards the horizon. In another six hour's time it would begin to darken, another day come and gone. Heaving a sigh Elaine pushed herself away from the side and staggered back towards the door. Once inside she made her way down the corridor, descended a small flight of stairs into another corridor and unlocked the second door on her right.

-AAA-

On deck Selby inspected the position of the sun, raising his thumb to measure the distance between it and the sea. "Another two points to starboard I think Lambert, we don't want to get too close to the coast tonight."

"Aye aye sir," Lambert spun the wheel over and the ship gradually began its turn to starboard.

_We'll give it half an hour on this tack and then resume our course_. Selby knew it was not really necessary to make this alteration but he had long learnt to be wary of the weather. In the event of a storm springing up he wanted to give the ship plenty of room to ride it out. The same would apply should the ship suddenly find itself becalmed; in which case drifting too near to the coast could spell disaster.

"Do you anticipate a smooth passage tomorrow Master?"

Selby glanced over at the speaker, "I sincerely hope so Mr. Atcher, but I'm afraid only Manann can tell you that."*

"Could you not take an educated guess?"

Selby felt a stab of irritation at the man's condescending tone, but he quickly shrugged it off. "I do not make guesses Mr Atcher, I work with what I know. So far the signs are good but I have learnt that the weather can turn at any point. I suggest you pray to Manann for a smooth passage."

The nobleman gave a curt nod and left it at that.

Time passed slowly as the sun continued its descent. Once he judged the time to be right Selby ordered Lambert to turn the ship two points to port. The helmsman had just completed the maneuver when the lookout's voice rang out from the crow's nest.**

"Deck there, sail on the starboard bow!"

-AAA-

OOC: _Author's Note-_ *Manann, God of the Seas is an Imperial god, the son of Taal and Rhya and the nephew of Ulric. He is usually portrayed as a powerfully-built man with a spiked crown of black iron. He can take the form of a waterspout, whirlpool or a huge sea monster and is popular with mariners. (Reference Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay, published 1995).

**Crow's Nest-this refers to the platform near the top of the mast where the ship's crewmen would keep watch for landmarks, hazards and other ships. Its sheer height afforded a superb view all round and in the age of sail a good lookout provided a crucial early warning of danger.

-AAA-


	3. Prepare a Boarding Party

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am gaining no financial benefits from writing this story.

-AAA-

The speed of change in activity aboard the _Vulture_ was surprising. Given their current position in pirate infested waters any sign of a new sail was bound to attract interest. Sailors paused in their duties, those up in the masts leaning out in an effort to catch a glimpse of the newcomer. It was of course a useless endeavour, for at present she was only visible to the lookout in the crow's nest.

All of this Selby observed with cool detachment. If she was to starboard that would put her between them and the open sea, which would hinder their ability to manoeuvre if the stranger's intentions proved hostile. Under normal circumstances this floating tub would have no chance of outpacing the sleek vessels of the Arabian corsairs, but with night only a few hours away they need only evade capture for a short while before disappearing into the shadows. That meant prompt action was now required.

"Beat to quarters," as one of the helmsmen sounded the gong, its dull clang bringing the remaining hands surging up from below decks, he moved to the taffrail and bellowed to one of the nearest hands "and get the captain up here Synjon, and tell him we have a visitor." The sailor hastened below through the entrance hatch, slamming it shut behind him. Without a pause Selby gestured to the Boatswain, "Mr. Grunwald man the bolt thrower, we may need it."

"Aye sir," the bosun in turn gestured to four nearby men. At his command two of them hastened below decks whilst the remaining two ran to the back of the poop deck and dragged the dull grey canvas sheet aside to reveal the ship's only weapon. A large bolt thrower, measuring several meters in length, was fixed to the deck. Constructed from stout oak timber with a powerful steel crossbeam the weapon sat atop a rotating panel, providing a roughly two hundred degree field of fire across the rear of the ship. This weapon had been a recent modification installed some two years previously by the ship's owners. Too slow to out sail most other vessels, they had reasoned that she could at least protect herself in the event of a stern chase. Initially the captain had paid little attention to this new device, but at Grunwald's insistence they had practiced with it frequently and the crew were now proving reasonably accurate. Still they had never yet had to fire it in self-defence and as Grunwald was want to say, "practice is no substitute for experience".

_Let's hope he doesn't get proved right today_.

"Expecting trouble Mr. Selby?"

"Just preparing for all eventualities Mr. Atcher." Selby watched as the sailors scurried aloft, unfurling the topsails in an effort to get some more speed on the ship. "If you want to make yourself useful I suggest you arm yourself." The remaining bolt thrower crew had now re-appeared, several six foot iron-tipped bolts slung over their shoulders. "Tell the cook to light a fire, but nothing more until I say so." If it was a pirate then a few heated bolts into their ship's hull would certainly give them pause for thought.

Atcher hurried down the steps, passing Joseph as he went. The noble nodded politely, a gesture the other did not return. Brushing past him Joseph made his way to the quarterdeck, withdrew a brass spy glass from the folds of his cloak and pointed it to starboard. "Not in the way am I?" the man's voice was soft and melodious, quite out of keeping with his weatherworn appearance.

"Not at all."

Selby turned his own gaze back to the horizon, waiting for the other vessel to come into sight.

The sound of rapid footsteps announced the captain's arrival. "What's this about Mr. Selby?"

"Strange sail sighted to starboard sir."

"Indeed, friend or foe?"

"We can't tell sir, she's still too far off."

"Right," Varus took out his own spy glass and trained it to starboard, "looks like we're in for a bit of a wait," cupping his hands he hailed the lookout, "what can you see."

"Two masted ship sir," the lookout's voice was like a siren in the evening air, "she's on a starboard tack and the jib's set to port, been like that since I saw her."

The Captain and Master exchanged curious glances. They both knew that if a ship was sailing on one tack with its jib set to the opposite side it was a sure sign that the vessel was out of control, its crew likely either dead or unconscious.

"Maintain this course Mr. Selby, and have the bolt thrower ready, we'll see what she looks like up close."

Selby lowered his voice, "you sure about this sir, it could be a trap."

"The thought did cross my mind Mr. Selby, but if it is genuine then we must assist the crew, now hold this course."

"Aye sir," Selby nodded to the helmsman, "two points to starboard." The master wisely kept his thoughts to himself as the ship began to turn further to starboard. In truth he did not wholly believe the captain's given reason. Although not a cruel man Captain Varus had never been noted for his humanitarian qualities and while he might give aid to fellow sailors in danger it was more likely that the man's main concern lay with the salvage potential of the vessel.

_Looking for some bloody salvage money, the greedy bugger!_

-AAA-

_-Two years ago-_

_Selby took a firmer hand on the railing, casting another nervous glance at the distant shore. The wrecked shape of the merchant ship was still clearly visible in the afternoon light. It had been a good six hours since she had been driven ashore onto an outcrop of rock beyond the Fools Point Rocks. By now the vessels masts had all toppled into the sea and her hull had been driven firmly onto the rocks, staving in a number of planks in the process. However wind and tide had now died back sufficiently for Captain Varus to order the launching of the Vulture's cutter._

_Against the advice of both Selby and the bosun the small boat had been launched and was now almost within reach of the wrecked ship, Grunwald at the tiller expertly directing the actions of the oarsmen._

"_This is dangerous sir; I doubt we'll find any survivors after this time." _

"_We must try Mr. Selby, there is always the chance."_

"_Yes sir."_

_Both men watched anxiously as the cutter came to a halt about two cables short of the rocks. Under Grunwald's directions one of the seamen dived overboard and began to swim for the rocks. With some difficulty the man managed to make it ashore and secure a line to the stricken vessel. This done he hauled himself up the wreck and waited for another crewman to pull himself across using the line._

_A figure drifted past the cutter, lying face down with limbs bobbing wildly in the pitching surf. Grunwald reached out and grabbed the man's shirt, hauling his face out of the water. A quick check confirmed the bosun's suspicions and he released his hold. Reclaimed by the tide the dead sailor began drifting away towards the shore._

"_No chance sir?" one of the boats crew gave him a questioning look._

_Grunwald didn't glance back, "face smashed, must've hit his head going overboard."_

_The scene before them was a grim one. The surf around the battered hulk was littered with various flotsam composed of smashed planks, blocks, cordage and several corpses. More still had been driven onto the jagged rocks, distance alone hiding the full horror of the broken bodies from view. To add to horror it was possible to discern, above the clamor of the wind and pounding of the waves, the deep creaking sound of splintering timber emanating from the shattered hulk before them, almost as though the ship itself were groaning in pain. _

_Setting his face in a determined expression the bosun tightened his grip on the tiller. "Alright lads, let's get on with it." _

-AAA-

As Selby had suspected there had been no survivors. The crew had all been swept away into the kingdom of Manaan, their ship becoming yet another unknown wreck to litter the jagged rocks of Fool's Point. Having discovered this he had been all for recalling the boat, but the captain had insisted on pursuing the salvage operation. Most of the cargo was unreachable but they had managed to salvage a couple of barrels of rum and one chest of valuable spices which had somehow remained watertight. Set against this was the fact that one of the sailors had missed his footing and cracked his head open on the rocks. But for the boatswain diving overboard to pull him out he would surely have drowned.

Selby had no doubts that the captain was hoping this ship might yield greater profits.

It took nearly two hours before the other vessel was visible to those gathered on deck. During this time a hush descended over the ship, all eyes now fixed on the dark silhouette to starboard. Word of this discovery had spread quickly, drawing several passengers from below deck. Elaine stood amongst them at the starboard railings, a hand shading her eyes against the fading sunlight.

By now the vessel was close enough for those with spy glasses to pick out her details. As the lookout had stated she was a brig, a two-masted vessel smaller than their own and much sleeker in appearance. The vessel was also clearly out of control, with her sails flapping uselessly in the wind and her driver swaying listlessly in time to the ship's rocking.

As the two ships drew closer together Selby could see that the brig was in a dreadful condition. Of the sails that had been set only the fore course and main course, together with the driver and jib were still intact and flapping loosely in the wind. Both forestay sails had blown away and the fore topsail was hanging by the corners. The remaining sails were still furled back and secured. Both the sails and the masts were covered with a thick green mould and the yellow paint along the ship's upper decks was badly frayed, with large sections having been chipped off to expose the dark woodwork underneath. Even the vessel's name had faded so badly with the passing of many years that it was impossible to make out until the twp ships were within bowshot of one another, and only then with spy glasses.

"Names badly faded sir," the lookout's voice drifted down from aloft, "but I think it reads _Mai…ie…nburg_. Yes I'm sure of it, _Maiienburg_. "

Selby froze when he heard these words, his jaw dropping open with disbelief and his hands falling to his sides. Captain Varus did not fail to notice this.

"Is there something wrong Mr. Selby?"

Selby took a deep breath to steady his rapidly increasing heart rate. "This company used to own a brig named _Marienburg _sir, she vanished in these very waters ten years ago and no trace was ever found of her," he took another deep breathe to steady his heart rate, "we assumed she'd either foundered or been taken by pirates."

"I see, and you think that this might be her?"

"It's crazy to think so after so long, but this one certainly looks to be the right shape."

"Looks right? So you've seen the ship before?"

The Master lowered his spy glass, "my brother was serving as her Master at the time."

"I see. How long do you make it till dark now?"

"I'd say less than four hours to go sir."

Varus fell silent, his eyes fixed on the drifting vessel. He studied her carefully through his spy glass, noting the thick coating of mould, the ripped sails and the flapping ropes.

"She looks deserted, there's no sign of movement."

Nearby they heard the steady clank of the bolt thrower as its crew trained it round to port, a, iron-tipped bolt in place. "Mr. Grunwald!"

The bosun came hurrying up the steps, "sir?"

"I want you to assemble a boarding party immediately; it must be ready to leave in the next half hour. I'll leave the choice of persons to yourself but I reckon you'll need at least four men to help you man the ship, and take Mr. Jonas along to manage navigation." He raised his hand upon seeing Selby's expression, "I appreciate your sentiments Mr. Selby but I'm afraid that I will need you here to help with the sailing. We'll stay close by throughout the night and rendezvous with her in the morning. Mr. Grunwald, take whatever provisions you deem necessary and make sure to take some signal lamps. Once you are satisfied with the ship raise one at the stern and one at the bow and we will do likewise. By this means we should be able to stay within sight of each other, understand?"

"Aye sir," Grunwald turned and hurried away, his bellows sending several crewmen running below decks whilst others hastened to prepare the cutter for launching.

"Captain," Joseph folded his own glass and turned to face the two officers, "may I request permission to join the boarding party."

Varus regarded him steadily, his gaze meeting the cold grey eyes beneath the shade of the wide brimmed hat. "Is there any particular reason for that request Mr. Joseph?" The man had refused to provide a surname and consequently everyone had taken to calling him 'Mr. Joseph' or when he was out of earshot 'the creepy one', for many had found his cold narrow eyes and distant manner more than a little disquieting.

"Not really, but I should remind you that you hired me to help protect the ship in the event of a pirate attack. It seems to me that if this is a trap then I might be of more use with the boarding party."

"Hired you indeed," Varus chuckled at the mercenary's choice of words. In truth he had insisted on being allowed aboard, even going so far as to accept rather miniscule wages. In fact the captain had been surprised at just how easily he had won the negotiations. Officially there was no set wage for hired muscle but the marines who sailed these seas had a long established and unofficial 'minimum' wage that they expected to be paid, often refusing to sail if this expectation was not met. This had led to frequent quarrels with unscrupulous captains who attempted to undercut these expectations, and yet this one had made very little effort to barter over his wages. Unusual, but he was not about to complain.

"Allright, go and report to the boatswain if you wish, just tell him I gave you permission."

Joseph touched his hat and moved away to descend the steps to the main deck. Selby watched him go, a puzzled frown on his face.

"Are you sure about him captain?"

"I wouldn't order it if I wasn't Mr. Selby. We'll stay nearby just in case, and we'll have the crew remain at quarters for the night. If anything does happen we'll be ready, and anyway," he swung back to face the main deck, "don't tell me you aren't curious to know if that is your brother's ship."

Selby fell silent. That he could not deny.

-AAA-

OOC: First of all, thanks very much to pacificuser for the review, it is greatly appreciated.

With regard to the drifting ship and its condition, I must acknowledge that this is heavily inspired by a tale in a book called _Invisible Horizons_, a book of tales of the sea. One of the tales deals with the true story of a sailing vessel named _Marlborough_ which sailed from New Zealand in 1890 and was found 23 years later drifting off the coast of Chile. The skeletons of the crew were found at various points in the ship. What happened to them remains a mystery, as does where the ship had been to remain undiscovered for 23 years.

The mystery of the _Mary Celeste_ has also inspired certain details in this story, mostly gleaned from a book titled _The Giant Book of the Unexplained_, edited by Damon Wilson.

In addition here are a couple of definitions for future reference:

_Starboard:_ the right side of a ship.

_Port:_ the left side of a ship.

_Bow:_ the front of a ship/boat.

_Stern:_ the back of a ship/boat.

-AAA-


	4. Discoveries

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am gaining no financial profits from writing this story-not that I couldn't use them right now mind you.

-AAA-

It did not take long for the crew to complete their preparations. Within the allotted thirty minutes they had loaded the cutter with enough food, water and lantern oil to last them several days. The boatswain saw to it that this was all carefully lashed down in the bows and under the seats, with canvas cloths drawn over the caskets to protect them against sea water. Once done he then set about ensuing that every man went fully armed with cutlass or tomahawk, even issuing two of them with bows. If there was any trouble in store he was determined that the party would not to be taken off guard, although what good these weapons would do them if the ship turned out to be harboring an ambush party he could not imagine.

The main problem he had faced had been persuading any of the crew to volunteer. Initially the captain had asked for volunteers only, but when none stepped forward Grunwald was forced to select the men himself. This had proved no easy task, for with the strange instinct that all men of the sea seemed to possess the crew had sensed that there was something unnatural about this strange vessel. Still their fear of the unknown had proved meager next to their fear of provoking the boatswain's anger.

His first choice had been Sinjun Jacobi, the same man whom he had sent to alert the captain to the _Marienburg's _presence. Standing about five foot nine inches in height, he was almost as broadly built as the boatswain himself. Sinjun had blue eyes and his long blonde hair was worn tied back at the base of his neck into a short ponytail. Descended from Bretonian stock, he had served with the boatswain on two ships prior to their appointment to the _Vulture_ and Grunwald knew him to be a steady and reliable man in a crisis. Even so he was one of the first to voice his fears.

"It ain't right for a ship to be adrift like that Archie. That there's a ship o' the dead, I feel it in my bones an you know it as well as I do."

In truth Grunwald had been having similar feelings ever since he had first seen that vessel, but as a petty officer it was his duty to uphold order on board this ship. Furthermore as the boatswain it fell to him to provide that crucial link between the crew and the officers and he knew better than to let his fears show in front of the men.

"I've felt it Sinjun, but we have our orders. Now are you with me?"

Sinjun grinned in reply, "I always am sir."

Choosing the next two had been more difficult, but in the end he decided upon Ragnar Falkirk and Michel Straus, both sailors recruited from the Reikland and as different in appearance as day and night. Ragnar was tall and thin, almost identical in build to Joseph, whereas Michel was slightly shorter than Sinjun and almost as broad in build; Ragnar's long jet black hair and blue eyes stood in contrast to Michel's short ginger hair and dark brown eyes. Yet the two men seemed to get along well, indeed Ragnar was said to have given up a chance to serve onboard a brand new trading galley in order to transfer to this ship with his friend.

The final member of the party, in addition to the Second Mate, was Richard Erard, a seventeen year old boy who had signed on as a crewmember when the ship had last visited L'Anguille some six months previously. It had been a curious occurrence-the ship been about to cast off when the young man had come running down the pier, practically begging to be allowed to join the crew. Selby had been suspicious of his ill-concealed haste to leave the port but the captain had settled the matter with a casual shrug.

"We're short-handed as it is, if you think he can make it as a sailor then sign him on."

The boy had proved to be a good topman, but his social skills left much to be desired. For the most part he kept to himself, only choosing to socialise at meal times and even then he was withdrawn to the point of rudeness, much like that passenger Joseph. Knowing that the crew had to get along if the ship were to run smoothly, Grunwald had assigned him regular duties to force him to interact with the rest of the crew and in this he had begun to have some success. It was chiefly this reason that had prompted him to select Richard for the boarding party.

Looking at him now the bosun could see that the boy clearly did not feel that way. He was eyeing the distant ship nervously and his hands were shaking so hard that he was forced to grip the hilt of his cutlass to steady them.

Once the provisions had been secured Grunwald gave the order to board the cutter. Joseph was the first to clamber in, moving over to sit in the bow. The bosun had mixed feelings about his presence. The mercenary certainly looked an experienced fighter but his usefulness on board a ship was still unknown and Grunwald did not like heading into a potentially dangerous situation without knowing what cards he was playing with. He would also have preferred to have more men for this mission but he knew that this was all that could be spared. _Vulture_ was capable of holding up to one hundred and ten men in her hold, but like many merchant ships she had never sailed with a full complement and at present she had only seventy three crewmen. In an emergency the rest would all be needed to man the ship. Whenever he had broached this matter to the captain the man had brushed it aside.

"_We take only what we really need Archie, I'm sure you can appreciate that."_

In other words, 'we'll use any excuse to save money.' Profit was the real master in any company and both the ship's owners and her captain would jump at any chance to increase theirs and to blazes with the risks.

Still, orders were orders, so he might as well make the best of it.

In twos and threes the rest of the party boarded the cutter, together with five more men who would return it to the ship once the boarders were away. With a creaking of ropes the boat was slowly lowered, hitting the pitching sea with a load splash. Joseph grunted irritably as water cascaded over the bow to splash him in the face. _Why in the name of Loec did I volunteer for this?"*_

As the ropes were detached the men swung out their oars, using them to push their little boat away from the ship's tall side. Once clear of her the sailors quickly settled into a steady rhythm and, with Grunwald manning the tiller, the cutter began its journey towards the _Marienburg's _drifting form.

-AAA-

The sea was very choppy and even with six men rowing it took the best part of half an hour before they reached the brig's side. From his position in the bow Joseph had plenty of time to study the vessel as they approached her from the stern. If she had looked unkempt from the deck of the _Vulture_ then up close her condition was positively dreadful. As with most ships her stern, although not highly ornamented, had been painted in a brighter colour than the rest of the vessel. Originally it must have been dark red, but by now most of that had been beaten off by the ravages of sun, wind and waves. The stern windows themselves were still intact but were heavily caked with salt, making it impossible to see into the cabins beyond.

The name, though badly faded, was now close enough to be read and he saw that the lookout had been correct-_Marienburg_.

As the cutter pulled around to approach her from the side the brig heeled slightly to starboard, exposing part of her keel. Looking closely Joseph could make out great streams of weed seemingly stretching downwards into infinity. The sailor sitting beside him was quick to notice this.

"That one hasn't been in dock for years."

Joseph merely nodded. He knew that all ships had to undergo numerous overhauls each time they came into port. That brief glimpse had been enough for him to spot several faint gleams amidst the green forest, which suggested the _Marienburg_ to be a copper lined vessel. Introduced to the Empire some twenty years previously, the technique involved coating the ship's hull with a thin sheet of copper from the waterline downwards. The copper protected the hull from many long-clinging weeds that could slow a ship's speed down to a painful crawl, as well as the dreaded marine worms that had been known to bore right through a wooden hull, but without regular overhauls weeds and barnacles would still build up. If left untreated the fastest ship would be lucky to make any headway save in a strong wind..

Judging by the length of the weeds this ship was many years overdue for her refit. Severe negligence that-no sane merchant captain sailing in pirate infested waters would allow his ship to get into this state-not when speed was his best defence.

Could that explain the ship's deserted appearance? Had she been cornered by pirates, unable to flee, and suffered the same fate as so many before her? Possible, but then why would the pirates abandon the ship? It might be in poor condition but was presumably still seaworthy. And if it had been abandoned recently then how did that explain the mould on the sails. Experience had taught him that sailors were a clean lot by nature, and he was sure that no sailor would allow his ship to get into this condition.

The mercenary thought briefly of the ship's namesake, that renowned trading port of the empire. What the dockyard workers of that port would say if they saw the state of this ship was anybody's guess.

At the bosun's instruction the men redoubled their efforts and finally brought their boat up alongside the steps cut into the side of the vessel. Joseph glanced up at the ship's scarred hide. Viewed from down here in the cutter she looked enormous.

"Alright lads, time to board her!" in the stern Grunwald stood up, turning the tiller over to the nearest man and checking the state of his weapons. He too had been scrutinizing the brig carefully, trying the judge the likelihood of an ambush. It seemed unlikely given her poor condition, for despite popular belief pirates were experienced mariners and took pains to keep their vessels in good shape and it was hard to imagine any pirate choosing to sail in this ship. Still one could not be too careful.

The brig was around medium sized, he estimated her to be roughly eighty feet in length from bow to stern and she probably displaced somewhere between two hundred and two hundred and fifty tonnes when fully laden. It was a decent size for a brig, although next to the _Vulture _she would have been dwarfed. His own ship had been built as a carrack and measured one hundred and twenty feet in length and her tonnage was even more imposing-six hundred and ten tonnes fully laden.

Those detailed to board the brig hesitated, their uncertainty of this strange drifter still strong in their minds. Deciding not to wait Joseph turned his attention to the steps. They were covered by a mixture of salt and the same thick green mould that coated the sails. Flexing his hands he gathered himself together, planted one foot on the cutter's side and launched himself across the gap between the two vessels. He landed as intended, fingers gripping the thick wooden steps. Then his right foot slipped from its perch, almost sending him falling. With a swift curse Joseph tightened his grip and thrust his left foot further in. Seconds passed, and then the ship tilted sideways, its momentum allowing the mercenary to reposition his feet.

Grunwald watched his antics with some amusement. It would have been a sight to see the mercenary tumble backwards into the water. Landsmen often underestimated the difficulty involved in transferring passengers from ship to ship-a single misplaced step and you would end up dropping down between the two hulls. Grunwald could remember one incident when his new captain had come aboard with a wet head, an event that had provoked much amusement amongst the men that evening.

"Come on Sinjun, your next."

Joseph was halfway up when the edge of one steps splintered under his weight, the rotten fragments narrowly missing Sinjun's head.

"Watch your step up here," he took care to place his weight on the innermost areas of the steps, "these things seem pretty rotten." He ignored the muffled curses below him and continued onwards. Climbing quickly and carefully he soon reached the top. Placing his hand on the side, Joseph removed his hat and carefully raised it. For a moment he held it there and when nothing happened raised his head cautiously and cast his eyes about.

The deck was completely deserted, the only signs of movement being the wildly flailing ropes that hung from the masts. Everything else was still.

Replacing his hat the mercenary hauled himself on deck, dropping into a crouch and drawing his sword. Beneath his feet the deck planking creaked ominously. On impulse he planted his heel against it and pushed down hard. The top layer of wood came away with ease, leaving a sizeable gash in the planking.

Joseph shook his head grimly. In all his years he had never known a floating ship in so great a state of decay as this one. It was not hard to believe she was the one that had vanished ten years previously; the state of her timbers alone suggested this.

Beside him Sinjun clambered up over the side, a large knife gripped between his teeth_._

"See anything?"

"No," Joseph stood up and advanced to the centre of the deck, casting his gaze in both directions, "place seems deserted. Watch your step, these timbers have been decaying for some time now."

"Damn, how's she even still afloat?"

That wasn't the only question on Joseph's mind right now.

One by one the others came on board, Grunwald bringing up the rear. At his signal the cutter cast off. It would stand off for now, ready to return should trouble develop. If the boarding party encountered no resistance they would unload the provisions and return to the _Vulture_.

-AAA-

A quick search of the gangway, the main deck and the forecastle revealed nothing of note. The brig's boat-a yawl large enough for around a dozen people-was still in place, lashed firmly over to the deck between the two masts. Of the ship's two pumps one had been drawn and lay where it had been dropped. The second was still in place and upon inspection it revealed there to be several feet of water in the ship's hold-a cause for concern, but not enough to suggest she was in any danger of sinking.

Several coils of rope were scatted over the deck, most of them resting against the railings where the waves had washed them. Like the sails they were dark and covered with mould, although it was noticeably thinner as presumably they had shifted position numerous times and scraped away the mould in the process. Sinjun reached out and ran his finger along the foremast, grimacing with distaste at the thick green coating that peeled off it. _That's just disgusting!_

A shout from the quarterdeck drew everyone's attention. Grunwald was the first up the steps, Joseph close behind him. Ragnar Falkirk stood by the helm, one hand pointing at the wheel. From a distance it had appeared unmanned, but a closer look revealed a pile of rags at the base of the wheel. Amidst the rags it was possible to discern, bleached white by the sun, the long bones of human arms and legs. The skull of the skeleton lay several feet away, the jawbone having detached as it rolled clear of the rags. Other bones, probably fingers and toes, lay scattered around the deck.

Joseph bent down and examined the pile, brushing his fingers to clean away the mould when he had finished. "Been dead a long time."

"Any sign of what happened?"

"It's difficult to tell, these clothes are pretty rotten…but I can't see any sign of a tear in the clothes-at least nothing that would suggest an entry wound, but look here," he moved over to the skull and gestured to the gaping hole in its forehead. The elf carefully ran a finger around the hole, tilting the skull in his hands for closer inspection "this was never caused by exposure to the elements; something literally bashed this man's head in. Whoever this man was he died a violent death."

Grunwald and Sinjun exchanged wary glances. Perhaps it had been too much to hope for an uneventful boarding.

Finally the boatswain spoke.

"Well there's nothing else up here. Mr Jonas, you are to secure the sails, take Erard and Straus to help you. I want to know how secure these sails are and I want these signal lanterns made ready." Saying this he un-slung the three lanterns brought up from the cutter and glanced over at the setting sun. "It's getting dark; I think we'll risk bringing the provisions aboard now. The rest of you, we're going below decks."

-AAA-

The lock to the entrance hatchway had rusted badly, in the end Grunwald had to strike it open with his boarding axe. A strong musty smell, one reminiscent of human decay, rose up from the hatchway in greeting. Steeling himself against the smell Grunwald descended the steps, cutlass in one hand and a lantern in the other.

One by one the others followed him.

-AAA-

TBC

OOC: _Author's Note:_ * Loec is the Shadow Dancer and the elf god of laughter. He appears as a youth who dances in the void and he often saves the souls of the dead from the chaos gods by tricking them out of their prize. He is the patron of dances, songs and plays. He has a darker side as well and is worshipped by the elves of Nagarythe for this-the god of shadows, malicious trickery, vengeance and dark deeds. (Reference: High Elf Army book published 1997.)

-AAA-


	5. What Happened?

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

This is the longest chapter I have ever written and I doubt I'll be able to churn out many more like it. pacificuser, in response to your request consider this a one-off thanksgiving present.

-AAA-

Jonas did not wait for the last man to disappear below decks. He was of the type that was most happy when he had something to occupy his attention. What happened below decks was in Grunwald's hands now; his business was to get this ship ready for the night.

"Right you heard the bosun, both of you get up those masts now. And go carefully, I want you to check every rope and every bolt and find out how secure they are. We need to know if this floating crate can still sail if the wind picks up."

"But sir," Erard glanced at the mould-covered wood with distaste, "those things are covered with that green mulch!"

Jonas raised his eyebrows in a sign of disapproval, detecting the note of whining in the young man's voice, "I don't care if they've been drenched with crab guts you little whiner," it took a great effort to keep the irritation from his voice, "get up aloft now!" As the boy scurried away for the mainmast the mate turned to Straus, "make sure he doesn't fall, we're short-handed enough as it is."

"Aye sir."

As the man hurried away after his crewmate Jonas turned his attention to the small sack he had brought with him. With great care he removed the spare sextant and compass, leaving the papers in the sack for later. Laying the instruments on a section of the deck he had just scraped clear of mould he gave the helm a few experimental turns and was pleased to encounter some resistance, an indication that the tiller ropes were still attached. Once the ship was secure their first task would be to inspect those ropes, the last thing they needed was for one of them snap under pressure and leave them adrift in a rough sea. If the condition of the rest of this ship was anything to go by then the ropes were almost certainly in dire need of repair.

A quick check with the instruments confirmed their position. The sky was still fairly clear, with any luck Selby's predictions would prove to be right and they would be able to use the stars to navigate when darkness fell. Taking the two remaining lanterns he filled them both with oil, dimly aware of the shouts of the two sailors as they scrambled about in the rigging far above him. Once finished Jonas attached each lantern to a length of thin rope and placed them against the railing on the poop deck. When the time was right they would secure one of these to the stern and give the _Vulture _a means to stay close by in the dark. The second lantern would serve as a spare in case the first were to go out. It was important to guard against such an occurrence, for without a light to show their position the two ships would be hard-pressed to stay in contact and might even leave themselves open to a collision, which would spell disaster in these waters.

"Alright then," he glanced down at the pile of bones at the foot of the wheel, "better attend to those I suppose."

-AAA-

The darkness was oppressive, and with the sunlight now fading from the sky the light of the lanterns cut only a few feet into the gloom. Grunwald paused as he reached the bottom of the stairs, testing the planks beneath his shoes. These did not crumble as they had on the deck. Though stained dark by the passage of many years their position inside the ship had at least protected them from exposure to the elements. Directly ahead of him lay the wide open space that formed the main deck. Stretching the width of the ship and running from just behind the stairs he had just descended right up to the prow of the ship, this vast space served as both storage space for equipment and as accommodation for the crew. Behind the stairs lay the opening of a second hatch that would lead down to the hold, the lowest point of the ship where the cargo and provisions were stored. Beyond and to the right of this hatch was the door that would lead directly to the officer's quarters and the captain's cabin.

After what he had seen up on deck the boatswain was keen to search the captain's quarters. Hopefully the ship's papers, most specifically her log book, would still be intact and might shed some light on what had happened here. But that would have to wait for later, their first action was to ascertain the condition of the hull.

"Ragnar you stay here and watch this hatch, you two come with me."

The three of them spread out across the main deck, Grunwald taking the left hand side and Sinjun the right hand side. Joseph walked down the centre, staying slightly behind the others, using the lantern to illuminate his way. He kept his figure hunched to avoid banging his head on the beams, an irritance he was all too familiar with. Ships of this size were not designed with comfort in mind-the ceiling was so low that none of them could possibly stand upright, a feature he had found in all the ships he had travelled in, regardless of their size. A faint smile drifted across his face as he recalled his meeting with the commander of an imperial sloop some three years previously. The man must have been about six feet in height, yet he had walked with a permanent stoop wherever he went-the sure sign of too many years spent serving in small vessels. It was this more than anything that had discouraged Joseph from going to sea for long periods.

The first thing they noticed were the hammocks-about ten of these short cloth sacks were slung up from hooks in the ceiling, swaying back and forth in time to the ship's motion. Sinjun reached out and touched one-the cloth was damp to the touch. Water must have got in here at some point, not a good sign. On impulse he grasped the edge and tilted it down for a look.

Two hollow sockets gazed back at him over an exposed mouthful of teeth. Sinjun froze, his gaze taking in the details of the skeleton before him. The skull lay upon what had once been the man's chest, the remaining bones gathered around the centre, entangled in the remains of a chequered shirt and white bell-bottom trousers. The sailor's iron belt buckle, stained with rust, still glowed faintly in the light of the lantern.

"Check the hammocks, there's a skeleton in this one."

"Can you see how he died?" Joseph moved over to inspect the closest one.

Sinjun peered closer, running his hand over the fabric, "no, there's no sign of a wound here."

"Bosun," Joseph's voice seemed unnaturally loud in the confined hull, "how many men would it normally take to crew a ship this size."

"For a ship this size," Grunwald dipped his head in thought, "I'd say at least forty men, but if you wanted to handle her properly I reckon you'd need around seventy, not including the officers."

"So that makes two down, at least thirty eight to go."

"And if a ship requires that large a crew then how are we to manage only seven Mr. Grunwald?"

"We'll manage until the sun rises Mr. Joseph, if needs be we'll just have to signal some more men over in the morning."

The three men resumed their search, checking each hammock as they went. With the exception of the one Sinjun had first inspected they were all empty, however four more skeletons were found at the point below the forecastle deck. As with the one by the helm most of their bones had been scattered across the deck by the constant pitching of the ship, but for they were still partially intact. One of the skeletons lay wedged into a corner, the skull lying at its feet. Through the mould that clung to the corpse it was just possible to discern several dark brown stains on both the clothing and the surrounding deck. From their pattern Grunwald guessed the wound must have been to the chest or throat.

Despite the dim light Joseph was able pick out several similar stains on the planking lining the side and ceiling of the deck. The pattern of the stains stretched out in a long line, the thickest part being located at the point where they met the wall. It seemed to be arranged in a series of dots which he recognised as characteristic of the spray patterns from wounds commonly inflicted by sword slashes.

"So you're saying what, that someone struck this guy with a cutlass," Grunwald bent down to take a closer look.

"He was struck with something alright, but I couldn't tell you what it was."

A crossbow lay where the man had dropped it, the iron cross bar streaked with rust, the string damp and covered in mould. One bolt was found lying against the wall. Glancing back along the deck Joseph noticed the feathered shaft of another protruding from one of the overhead beams.

The second skeleton lay further up the deck, arms outstretched and the hilt of a rusty cutlass still resting against the remains of its hand. As with the previous one there were several dark brown stains along the shirt and the surrounding deck. The skull, the hand and the foot bones had rolled clear, most of them now lying scattered across the deck. The jawbone was found several feet away atop one of the chests. The three men could see that the joints where the jaw had been attached to the skull were badly cracked and that the top of the skeleton's shirt bore a dark stain of blood.

Sinjun gingerly took the bone between his fingers, "strange, it's almost as if something took the man's jaw off." The others made no reply, both lost in their own thoughts. Their glances drifted to the remaining two skeletons which lay in a heap in the far corner of the deck, their bones too tangled to be able to tell one from the other.

"Whatever happened here," Joseph reached out for the forecastle door, "these men didn't go down without a fight."

The space under the forecastle contained an unusual feature-a number of planks had been set up to construct four makeshift cabins, two on either side. They were not very large-just long and wide enough to contain a narrow cot, a couple of chests, a chair and a makeshift fold-out desk fixed to the wall. Both the left ones were empty, as was the closest one on the right.

The final cabin was occupied-this skeleton was dressed in red clothing that, whilst faded, was of far finer quality than that worn by the sailors. There was no question as to how he had died-the cutlass had been driven through the man's chest, pinning him to the cot in which he now lay. Closer inspection of the door revealed that the lock had been smashed, scattering splinters across the cabin.

Grunwald stared at the scene, "what the hell happened here?"

There was no answer forthcoming.

They searched the remainder of the deck but discovered no further skeletons, nor any further signs of a struggle. Two stacked crates had been toppled over but it was impossible to tell whether this had been caused by their being knocked over during the fight or simply due to the ship's rolling.

As the three began to retrace their steps towards the stern Grunwald insisted that they examine each of the large sea chests that had been stacked against the ship's sides. This took over an hour as there were fifty one of these in total and from their design Joseph guessed that they had belonged to the _Marienburg's _crew. Every sailor had one of these and they contained everything the man would have owned. Picking open the locks, Joseph found items of clothing, pipes, razor blades and various other items. It was sometimes surprising to see how little a man could accumulate in a lifetime of service on the sea. Were these meager possessions really all that remained of the crew?

"All full," Grunwald flipped the lid closed on the last chest.

Sinjun nodded, "razor blades and all."

"Then whatever happened to the crew they certainly didn't plan on leaving their ship."

Joseph gave him a puzzled frown, "what makes you so sure?"

"Because these items would have been all that the crew would have possessed in the world, no seaman abandons his pipe or razor unless he is in a state of panic."

"I see, then you think they abandoned the ship in a hurry?"

"I never said they abandoned ship."

Joseph said nothing more, there was no need. Judging by the state of the skeletons something terrible had evidently happened here, but what?

"Bosun you'd better take a look at this." The three of them moved back to where Ragnar stood, his hand supporting the now open hatchway. "I decided to take a quick look down there, see if there was anything of interest. I found this," he gestured to the underside of the hatch. The wood was criss-crossed with deep scratches, as was the deck around the hatch. In addition the iron bolt on the hatchway had, despite its strength, been severely buckled and the woodwork around the lock was badly splintered. Joseph ran a finger along some of the scratches.

"Claw marks, looks like something forced its way out of here," he met the boatswain's stare, "this ship was part of your company I believe, do you know if the company was transporting animals back then?"

Grunwald shrugged, "I suppose it's possible, we do sometimes do that these days, always in demand amongst the nobility. Why, do you think an animal did this?"

"I don't know, but if it did then how do you explain the cutlass in our friend back there, and what animal could possibly do this to a sealed hatch and overpower the entire crew? Some of them clearly had time to arm themselves, so surely they could have contained it."

"You have a point there, but that being said I do know that it's happened before."

"What do you mean?"

"Just a tale I once heard from a shipmate, he told me that about thirty odd years back a whaling vessel named _Koga_ happened upon a another drifter off the Bretonnian coast. When a boarding party was sent on board they were attacked by a large cat, it killed five of them before they could bring it down. Further investigation revealed the ship had been transporting a pair of these as part of their cargo from the east. Somehow they had gotten loose and killed everyone on board. And then eaten them. A broken cutlass and three missing pikes were the only signs of a fight."

"They were attacked by one," Sinjun scratched his chin thoughtfully, "but you mentioned two."

"The second cat was found dead in the hold, apparently killed by the other."

"So that could be what happened here?"

"Maybe," Grunwald glanced down at the open hatchway, the light of the lantern illuminating the swirling water below them, "that will need to be pumped out, let's just hope the pumps still work on this ship."

"Shall we check it out Archie?"

"Personally Sinjun I want to search the cabins first. If I can find the ship's log then it may give us an idea of what we are dealing with here."

"Alright then, why don't you check the cabins and we'll check the hold. It shouldn't take long to establish its condition."

"Sure, take these two and make an inspection, I'll see what I can find back there."

"Watch your back Archie."

"Same to you mate."

-AAA-

Michel Straus made his way through the rigging. Experienced topman as he was he still felt a great deal of trepidation about his current situation. The mould made his foothold on the yardarm more slippery than usual and the worn condition of the support ropes was less than reassuring. Reaching the end of the main topgallant yardarm he bent down to inspect the bolts that held the furled sail in place. A brief check confirmed that they were all badly rusted, but they appeared fairly strong nonetheless. Down below he heard Erard clawing his way along the driver beam to inspect its fastenings. So far things were looking better than expected. Despite the thick mould, the sails, ropes and woodwork were still fairly sound and the iron rings were all intact. From the looks of things this ship could still be made to sail, although he could not say how well it would stand up to a gale force wind.

The sailor glanced warily at the darkening horizon. _Manaan, please watch over us tonight_.

-AAA-

Grunwald pushed the cabin door open, noting that its outer panel bore the same claw-marks as the hatch. A damaged wooden beam lay in the corridor, from the scrape marks on the floor and the inner side of the door he guessed it had been used in an effort to barricade it shut. Evidently the attempt had failed.

He glanced down the corridor, watching the light from his flickering lantern playing along the passage. The hairs on the back of his neck stood on end-it was unnerving even for the most iron-willed of men to be advancing into unknown spaces in a potentially dangerous situation. But the boatswain was an experienced leader, and after thirty four years on the sea he knew how to control this fear. He noted that the corridor contained two doors on his left side and one on his right, with a fourth one situated directly at the end of the passage. He tried the first three in turn, finding their locks unfastened and undamaged.

The first room had evidently been the mate's cabin. Slightly larger than the makeshift cabins under the forecastle, it was furnished in a similar way except that in place of a cot it contained fastenings for a hammock, a measure that provided more space for the occupant. The tiny glass porthole-a feature he had never seen in any other ship-set into the side was caked over with thick dust on the inside and a layer of salt on the outside. Only a faint reddish hue could be seen through the layers, it was doubtful they'd get much light through it until it was cleaned. A large chest lay propped against one wall. Grunwald raised the lid and glanced through the contents briefly. It contained clothes, a hammock and a few other possessions including a silver watch engraved 'J. Selby.'

_Strange thing to leave behind._ He replaced the items. The clothes were damp, but there was no trace of water inside the cabin. In addition to the usual objects the chest contained one further item of interest-a leather-bound notebook. He carefully pried open the damp pages. Some of the contents had been written in ink which had now been rendered largely illegible, but most of the writing had been made in pencil. Though somewhat faded it was still readable. On the front page the name of J. Selby was still visible.

Grunwald replaced the book on top of the pile, intending to return to it later. It looked like this ship's mate had been Mr. Selby's brother alright. Grunwald was not looking forward to breaking the news to his friend. He only hoped they might be able to identify the man's body, if it was still on board ship. At least that way Selby would know his brother would have a decent burial.

He found the ship's instruments in a smaller chest by the door. The compass was missing but the sextant and chronometer were both present and in full working order. With the exception of these chests, a chair and a folding desk the room was bare. The second room on the left, probably the second mate's was equally neat. Its furnishings were the same and its hammock still inside the occupant's personal sea chest.

The door on the right of the corridor opened onto a room identical to the others. It too was clean, damp and showed no signs of a struggle. The lantern light played over the walls, illuminating the hammock that swung in the centre. He saw a depression in the cloth, but was relieved to find only a rusty cutlass. A quick check of the chest revealed nothing noteworthy to suggest who had occupied this cabin.

The final door, which did show signs of forced entry, opened onto the captain's cabin. A small door to the right led off to what was presumably the ship's chart room where the captain's cot would be. The cabin windows were, like those of the other cabins, heavily caked in slat and let in little light. The flame of the lantern spanned out to illuminate the large oak desk in the centre of the room. Two chairs lay in front of it, the right one on its side. Several objects were piled on the top of the desk; others lay scattered across the floor. Gathering himself together the boatswain advanced further into the cabin.

Grunwald knew what he was going to find as soon as the light illuminated the pair of boots lying beside the left side of the desk. The boots themselves were attached to a faded pair of grey trousers, which led to a long grey overcoat similar to that worn by Joseph underneath his scaled cloak. The skeleton inside was still intact, its bones held in place by the heavy clothing. Only the skull had separated from the rest of the body and now lay tucked inside the tri-corn hat. The jaw had fallen away and lay on the floor between these two sections.

It was not clear how the man had died but it seemed he had gone down fighting. Two great claw-like gashes were visible in the fabric of his coat, a crossbow lay on the desk where it had thrown and the man's cutlass lay by his side, the blade stained brown-with blood or rust he could not tell. Looking back Grunwald noticed what he had failed to see earlier-the shaft of one crossbow bolt wedged firmly into the wall by the doorway.

A chart, some pencils and a tankard also lay atop the desk, a specially raised coving around its edge having prevented these items from falling off during heavy seas. Scattered on the floor he found several crossbow bolts, a set of dividers and a small key. This he used to unlock the three desk drawers. They contained the usual collection of ship's papers-the small black form of the punishment book, the larger form of the ship's log and a collection of papers and charts. Most of these were official company paperwork, but a few personal items were also present, including a gold watch and a half-finished letter to the captain's wife. _Someone else whose family never returned_.

Shaking his head sadly, Grunwald flipped through the log book. Unfortunately the captain had written in a very distinctive style which the boatswain found rather difficult to read. Many of the letters were easily confused and despite his efforts the boatswain found himself having to guess many of them. Making a mental note to ask the others to try their luck at reading it, Grunwald replaced the papers in the draw. He would return later once the ship was in order.

A quick check of the chart room revealed no further clues-the cot was unmade and everything else was neatly arranged. With one last look at the remains of the _Marienburg's _captain Grunwald exited the cabin, closing the damaged door behind him.

-AAA-

By now the sun was barely visible on the horizon. Up on the poop deck Jonas watched as the two sailors descended the foremast. Descending the steps from the quarterdeck he moved to meet them in the middle deck.

"Report."

Straus raised his hand in salute, "the sails, ropes and masts are mostly intact. Their covered in mould but I reckon we can still make use of them. Most of the iron has rusted badly though. I reckon we should be alright as long as the sea remains calm, but if it picks up I wouldn't want to have to go up there."

"Indeed," Jonas scratched his chin thoughtfully, "I think we can leave the sails as they are for now. We'll tighten the two main sails a little to give better steerage, but I think our main priority should be to ride out the night. Erard, kindly go and call the cutter alongside would you, we'll begin loading the supplies. Straus, once we have the supplies aboard I want you to take a look at that yawl, see if it's seaworthy. If we have to abandon ship it will be our best chance.

"Aye sir," snapping salutes the two men hurried to the side and hailed the cutter. With an answering hail the man in the stern turned the tiller and steered his little craft towards the brig's side.

-AAA-

The hold of the ship was located at and below the vessel's waterline and was also the darkest place of all. Very little light ever penetrated this far, making the three men glad of Sinjun's lantern. As the ship's pump had revealed the hold contained at least three feet of water, atop which a variety of objects were currently bobbing like apples in a stream. Of the rats that had made these dank depths their home the men could detect neither sight nor sound, only a few scattered bones atop some crates remained to mark their existence. Joseph guessed they must ultimately have died out as food supplies became scarce.

A number of the crates and were still in place, lashed together securely to prevent them shifting during transit. Although frayed and covered with grime the ropes that held them were still solid. The party inspected the crates as they passed. Their labels had faded with the passage of time but the two sailors were able to identify those that were used to store provisions, rum and water. Many of these contained sizeable holes where the ships rats had gradually chewed through the wood to get to the food inside. A number of sacks containing biscuits were also propped up in one corner, their contents long since destroyed by water and rodents.

By the light of the lantern Sinjun found a large rusty hammer beneath the water and used it to stave in the lids of two rum caskets. From the smell that burst out it was clear not even this powerful spirit had withstood its time on the high seas.

"Well gentlemen," Joseph ran his eyes over some of the larger caskets, "I doubt we'll find anything edible down here."

Sinjun chuckled good naturedly, "don't be too sure mercenary, I've been living off the old salt pork most of my life and I'll tell you now if their casks have stayed above the water it'll probably still be eatable...or at least no less so than it normally is."

Ragnar nodded in agreement-no one ever went to sea to eat well and naval salt pork in particular was renowned for its toughness. He recalled his time as a sailor on board the Imperial galleon _Sigsmund I_ some twelve years previously. One of the boatswains had found a lump of salted pork that had been packed forty years previously. The man had carved it into a scale model the galleon and glued it to a beam. The thing had turned solid as a rock, as many a cracked head would bear witness to down the ages.*

Joseph's foot struck something solid beneath the water. Bending down, he felt his fingers close over a smooth domed surface. From the shape of it he knew it was a skull. "There are remains over here, see if you can find any more of them."

A careful search uncovered the bones of another skeleton lying at the bottom of one of the crates. In the dim light and with the water hiding most of them from view it was impossible to gain any information from the bones. After this the party began to comb the hold from top to bottom, searching for any signs of a leak. They trod carefully, mindful of what might lie beneath the murky water. As they went Joseph took the opportunity to inspect the various crates further. In addition to those used to store provisions there were two long rectangular ones large enough to hold a grown man. Their make puzzled him, for rather than the cheap wood normally used to make such containers these were made of solid ash. Judging by its frayed edges one of them had been forced open and then resealed with iron nails. _Another puzzle to be solved_.

There were also several large square cases. He considered prying off the lids to find out what was inside but reasoned that there were more important matters to attend to. The cargo could wait for another day.

After nearly an hour of searching, during which Grunwald dropped down to check on their progress, they failed to locate any sign of a hull breach. This indicated that the _Marienburg's _hull was still relatively sound and that the water that had made its way below decks must have been due to storms the vessel had weathered since she had been abandoned.

A brief discussion followed during which the four of them agreed that the best course of action would be to pump out the hold overnight and make a full inspection in the morning. As they ascended up the ladder to the main deck Grunwald related what he had found. A silence fell over the company-the discovery of another three bodies did nothing to settle their nerves.

Grunwald was the first to break the silence.

"We'd better get up on deck; I reckon Jonas will have called the cutter alongside by now. By the way," he related the trouble he had experienced with deciphering the log book. "I don't suppose any of you could have a go?"

Ragnar simply shook his head; reading was not one of his skills. Joseph gave a different response.

"I've had some experience with elaborate handwriting. If you'd like I could take a look when we've finished on deck."

"I'd be grateful if you would."

-AAA-

The following four hours were spent putting the derelict ship into some frame of order. It was no easy task. The sun vanished from view soon after the boatswain's party had come on deck, making the work of the sailors even more dangerous as they scampered through the mould coated rigging. Both Erard and Ragnar almost lost their footing on the masts and yardarms, in the latter's case he was only saved from a hundred foot drop because he managed to grab the safety rope and pull himself back onto the mast. These incidents prompted the boatswain to simply order a tightening of the mainsails as Jonas had suggested and leave the rest until daylight.

The stern lantern had been lit and hung in place and a watch had been set up on the quarterdeck. One man was detailed to man the helm and the second to keep watch for the _Vulture's_ stern lamp, the glow of which could currently be seen in the distance on their port side. A detailed inspection had confirmed that the tiller ropes, though worn, were solid enough to give steerage way, although when the chance presented itself Grunwald intended to get them replaced with some spares from the _Vulture. _It was a bit early to be sure, but he was now hopeful that despite her rotten condition they would be able to sail the brig into port unassisted.

Before he left the deck Grunwald took a final glance along the length of the ship. Currently he had Jonas and Erard manning the quarterdeck whilst Ragnar and Straus were on the pumps, trying to get as much water out of the hold as possible. At his order Sinjun was catching some much needed rest in preparation for when he would relieve Jonas. The sails were all in position and the _Vulture's _stern light still in view. Realising there was nothing more to be done he strode down the hatchway and turned towards the captain's cabin.

-AAA-

Joseph was sitting in the dead man's chair as he entered, his attention focused on the book before him. The mercenary had propped his sword against the wall whilst his hat, overcoat and scaled cloak were resting on one side of the desk. He was currently wearing a dark metal shirt of overlapping mail scales and a pair of black leather vambraces with a black tunic underneath his armour. A tankard of water sat nearby and several papers were spread out before him around the book.

This was the first time Grunwald had seen the man without his hat and cloak. Aboard the _Vulture_ Joseph had largely kept to himself, only stirring outside his cabin for meals and strolls along the deck. He stared now in surprise at the finely chiseled features, the narrow eye sockets and the long silvery hair that hung down freely over his shoulders. The face itself bore two scars, the first a faint one running the length of his chin, the second one a more prominent line running from the hairline above his left ear to the middle of the cheek. The tip of the left ear was missing, apparently sliced off by a blade. The right one, previously hidden beneath his hat, was present and terminated in a sharp angular point.

"No need to stare Mr. Grunwald," Joseph did not look up, "I didn't just burst out of the void."

Grunwald rallied himself instantly, "sorry Joseph, didn't mean to stare but you did take me..."

"By surprise," cold blue eyes met the boatswain's gaze, "most people act like that when they see me. I'm used to it by now of course."

The boatswain advanced into the cabin and pulled up one of the other chairs. The place was looking a little tidier now; the captain's body had been placed carefully inside a sack and now lay with the other skeletons inside the cabin on the right of the corridor. Once morning came Grunwald intended to give each body a proper sea burial. The fate that waited so many who rode the waves, it seemed fitting that the ocean they had chosen to spend their lives upon should become their final resting place.

"So you are..."

"An elf, break it to the men carefully would you, most people tend to find my origins off-putting for some reason."

"I'll let them know," Grunwald selected a glass from the drinks cabinet in the corner and poured himself a measure of brandy, "like some?"

"Sure," Joseph drained the remaining contents of his tankard and held it out, "just a little mind you."

Grunwald poured him a measure, replaced the cap on his flask and leaned back in his chair, "can you make out the captain's writing?"

"Well he certainly had a very distinctive hand, but luckily I've translated worse writings in my time."

"Have you learnt anything from that log?"

"Nothing in connection with this voyage I'm afraid," the elf flipped the lid closed and leaned back in the chair, flexing his neck from side to side. "I decided to wait until you got here before looking at the details of its last voyage, so I've just been looking through the entries prior to that."

"And what did you find?"

"There's nothing of interest so far as I can see. According to the last entries the previous voyages all passed without incident and there were no troubles encountered in any of the ports. In other words it reads exactly the same as I would expect the log book of any other ship to read," he took a swig from the tankard, "and I checked out the crew manifest, there were fifty three on board in total plus four passengers. It looks as though she was short-handed when she set sail."

"Many merchant ships are these days; does the log list any signs of dissension amongst the crew at all?" Grunwald could already guess the elf's answer, he knew the ship's log book was there to record its passage and any noteworthy incidents that might occur-the crew's behaviour would not be one of them.

"I'm afraid not, but I've been looking through the punishment book," here he slipped out the small black volume, "there are plenty of minor misdemeanors but the punishments were relatively light, the most serious case I could find was a dozen lashes for a man who struck the second mate after being ordered aloft for the third time in a gale. These reports are not suggestive of a particularly unhappy ship."

"Indeed," Grunwald took a swig from his glass, "I've been considering what we've seen and I think we can rule out a mutiny,"

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because if the crew did take over this ship then why did they abandon her? It would have made more sense to sail her to some local port and sell her off. Sigmar knows the officials in the Border Princes certainly don't ask too many questions and they would have been beyond the reach of the Empire's officials. The cargo alone would probably have fetched a tidy sum."

"So you think we'll find the cargo still on board-what's survived anyway?"

"It wouldn't surprise me," the boatswain hastily jerked his gaze away from the elf's ears as Joseph glanced up at him, "in any case if the crew had left voluntarily then they would have taken their sea chests with them. No sailor would abandon those unless in a state of panic."

"Fair enough, not a mutiny then. But those skeletons we found suggest that something unpleasant happened here and at least one of the officers was killed. And I doubt it was pirates, for they are hardly likely to abandon such a prize."

"I've been thinking about that; tell me elf does it not strike you as odd that a vessel like this with a potentially valuable cargo should be able to escape detection for so long in these pirate infested waters?"

Joseph took another swig from his tankard, "it is very strange I grant you, but don't forget that we have no way of knowing that we are the first to board this ship. Pirates may have found it and left after ransacking the hold. I admit it's still rather full but perhaps they were only interested in certain items."

Grunwald shook his head, "I don't think that's likely, if the cargo had been ransacked I would expect to see broken caskets and more general disorder. There's no sign of that here. Plus let's not forget that the crew's valuables are still here-no pirate in my experience would leave those behind."

"I agree, but there's no point in speculating about this until morning, then we can do a proper search of this ship. If there's been anyone aboard before us then hopefully we'll be able to find out."

"Alright, now in the meantime I believe we were going to see what that book could tell us."

Joseph stretched airily, flexing the muscles in his back, and pulled the lamp a little closer.

"Very well."

-AAA-

_Author's Note_: OOC:*This tale is true, a boatswain in the nineteenth century British navy took a lump of salt beef that had become as hard as mahogany and carved it into the shape of a frigate and cracked many skulls over the years when sailors forgot to duck. For my reference to this see _The Guinness Book Of Naval Blunders_ by Geoffrey Regan.

-AAA-


	6. The Last Writings

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

OOC: With regard to the recorded positions in the ship's log, I know very little about how to write longitude and latitude correctly so I will not be including these in the entries, readers will just have to imagine the ship's rough position at the time of the entries. I also do not know exactly how the Empire organises its dates, so I will be dating the entries in the same way we do today according to day, month and year.

-AAA-

The atmosphere aboard the _Vulture_ was scarcely less tense than that aboard the _Marienburg_. The presence of the danger posed by both the jagged coastline on their port bow and the possible danger of marauding pirates had caused a subdued atmosphere to set in amongst the crew. Those on watch now paid extra care to their observations whilst those resting their hammocks tossed and turned, sleep continuing to elude them. Unable to sleep, those men not on duty resorted to occupying themselves by any available means, from cleaning equipment to gathering in the mess to indulge in gambling. Tempers quickly became frayed in the tense atmosphere and several times officers were forced to intervene to prevent minor disagreements from escalating into open violence.

Inside his cabin Varus cast an appraising look over his guest. James Atcher sat opposite him, a glass of red wine in hand. In an effort to pass the hours the captain had decided to invite his most 'distinguished' passenger for a discussion of their progress since leaving Bretonnia, and he was already beginning to regret the decision. Varus found the nobleman's haughty manner and condescending tone extremely irritating. The conversation had gone well at first but now it had drifted around to the present situation and disagreements were starting to emerge.

"Honestly captain I can understand your wish to inspect this strange vessel but I think I should remind you that when I came aboard you assured us of a speedy passage and it appears that you are now starting to forget where you're...commitments lie."

Varus bit back his urge to retort with an effort, "I am fully aware of my commitments Mr. Atcher, but I will remind you that if this vessel is what I think it is then it was once the property of this very company, the same company that your father bought into only three years back. That being said I would have thought you would understand my wish to inspect this ship and, if nothing else, ascertain its salvageable value."

"Understandable I admit," Atcher's voice remained smooth and even, "but speaking of cargo I need not remind you of the importance that your present cargo reaches its destination with all possible haste. We are well aware of the pirate problem in these waters and I do not think this vessel's owners would appreciate you jeopardising its safety in this way."

"I have been sailing these water's for a long time Mr. Atcher, I feel I am well qualified to assess any dangers that may develop. Be assured that I am not foolish enough to place salvage over caution."

"Oh, I am sure you are not, but I simply wish to remind you that the present commitments need to take precedence over all others, as I'm sure you'll agree."

An uneasy silence descended on the room. After a moment the nobleman shrugged, "of course I'm only a passenger, what happens aboard this vessel is entirely your decision, when at _SEA_ you do have full authority over us all."

"Of course,"

The nobleman finished his glass and got up from his chair, "well it's getting late captain and I suppose I should be turning in. Thank you for the drink."

Varus did not reply, merely watching his guest leave via the cabin door. He had caught the emphasis placed on the one key word and understood the threat behind it. If the bosun did not report back with good news tomorrow then the ship's owners were liable to hear a rather disconcerting report concerning this voyage. At sea his authority was absolute, but once ashore the balance in power would shift dramatically and if things went wrong his position would become very difficult.

He would have to tread very carefully on this matter.

-AAA-

Atcher left the cabin, staggering as the ship dipped into a particularly large trough. After taking a few steps in the direction of his cabin he abruptly changed his mind and decided to take a stroll on deck to clear his head. The wine had been particularly strong after all.

Making his way to the exit he climbed the stairs and opened the hatch, taking care to close it behind him. Once up on deck he cast his eyes about. He knew there would be a couple of men on the quarterdeck to keep watch, but otherwise the ship appeared to be deserted with the exception of a solitary figure standing in the bows. Curiosity drove Atcher to make his way forwards. Upon closer inspection he recognised the maid of that Bretonnian woman. He had seen this servant several times aboard the ship-standing about five foot seven in height and of a fairly slender build, she had long black hair and a face that, though not beautiful, was still rather pretty.

A man of such noble birth as himself would not normally consort with someone so far beneath him in the social rank, but Atcher had always been willing to make an exception with any agreeable party. The woman's mistress, with her own noble background, was one of the few people on board capable of providing suitable company but she had rebuffed his advances, politely at first and then with a noticeable sharpness when he had persisted. It had been a rather uncomfortable experience on the whole.

_Well, perhaps this one will prove a bit more sociable than her mistress_.

The woman glanced back at his approach, recognised him and hastily dropped into a curtsy. "My Lord, forgive me I didn't hear you."

Atcher summoned his most charming smile, "not to worry my dear, it is rather loud up here." He held up his hand as she made to leave, "please don't leave on my account, I could use some company right now." She paused, the hesitation clear on her face, "don't worry miss, I'm sure your mistress won't mind us talking above decks."

"Well...as you wish my lord," she drew her cloak more tightly about herself and returned to the railing. He rested his arms on the railing and leaned out so that they were both staring at the distant stern light of the _Marienburg,_ each momentarily lost in their own thoughts. Eventually the maid broke the silence.

"I see the other passenger's are very nervous at the moment, they are all concerned about what the crew are saying, about pirates and those terrible rocks."

"An understandable feeling miss, however I have spoken to the captain and he seems quite confident about our safety." _Rather too confident given his current position-stupid blighter_. "I am sure that if anything was wrong he would know. There really is no need for you need to worry yourself Miss..?"

"Louisa sir, Miss Louisa Francois. I am from Bretonnia like my mistress."

"Ah, anywhere near Bordeleux by any chance?"

"Yes sir, that's where her family was based."

"Have you worked for her long?"

"Since I was a child sir, as did my mother before me."

"Ah, so you know her fairly well," he saw her change in expression, laughed heartily and raised one hand in a calming gesture, "don't worry I have no interest in your mistresses' secrets. I was brought up to believe that a gentleman should always respect a lady's privacy."

She seemed relieved at his words, "thank you my lord."

"Not at all," he took the opportunity to edge a little closer to her, careful to keep his movements discreet. Producing a flask he offered her some, which she declined. Shrugging he took a gulp of the strong whisky, feeling his body tingle as the liquid seared his throat. _Just what I needed on a night like this. _

-AAA-

Meanwhile, on the quarterdeck of the _Marienburg,_ Sinjun glanced over in the direction of his own ship, relieved to see that the stern lamp was still within view. The wheel felt heavy in his hands as he tugged it slightly to get the ship on course, careful to keep it in correlation to the stars. Overall things had gone well, despite a few near misses they had managed to get the sails into line and even scrape some of the mould off the yardarms. Tomorrow the bosun planned to have what was left removed and thereby make them into more secure footholds for the sailors. The move would help moral in other areas too-the stuff was an offensive to look at and even with the wind picking up Sinjun still found himself recoiling from the smell of decay that seemed to waft up from below decks.

Their efforts on the pumps had also gone well and Jonas had just ordered a brief cessation to the work. The hold was now largely clear of water and provided there were no leaks below deck the plan was to perform a complete search of the place once dawn arrived. After that he hoped the captain would order a change in course to the nearest port. Given the ship's current condition he doubted that it could withstand a storm and did not want to be caught away from the _Vulture_ if that happened. Old and slow she might be but the merchantman was still a sturdy seagoing vessel. He simply could not imagine how this one had stayed afloat for all these years.

In any case she gave him the creeps, not just because of the desiccated skeletons found strewn about the decks, but also because of the general atmosphere that had been present since they arrived on board. Closer inspection of the yawl had revealed three large holes roughly twice the size of a man's fist in the keel. A close inspection indicated that these had not been caused by rot, but by blows from some type of blunt instrument. The edges also showed signs of the same claw marks found on the hatch. Straus could not put his finger on it, but something at the back of his mind kept nagging him. He knew that feeling, he had felt it before in these waters, the feeling that something was about to happen, probably something unpleasant.

Morning could not come too soon in his opinion.

-AAA-

Below decks Erard lounged back in his hammock. He had only been relieved of duty an hour ago and the boatswain had ordered him to get some rest before taking his turn in the crow's next. At first he had tried to go to sleep but thus far it had proved elusive. The grisly spectacles from earlier today were still fresh in his mind and right now every creak was making him jump.

In an effort to stave off these thoughts the young man turned his attention to the two objects he had retrieved from one of the chests earlier in the day. One was an arm bracer, made of black leather with a series of red runic inscriptions carved into the tough strip. Erard had seen these used in the past and knew that it was meant for archers who wore it on their left arm to prevent their clothing from catching the bow string and to protect their wrist from the whiplash of string itself. Erard did not know what the runes meant but he liked the look of the bracer and had asked the bosun if he could keep it. Grunwald, heavily occupied with getting the ship in order, had consented before ordering him back up top.

The second object he had kept secret, knowing that they would not let him keep it if he asked. His thumb brushed across the handle of the small lock pick, a thief's tool of trade. He had not realized how much he had missed the feel of a thief's tool in his hands and smiled at the memories it evoked, finally finding something familiar in this strange environment.

Gradually his eyelids lowered and he lapsed into an uneasy sleep.

-AAA-

Atcher offered the maid his hand as she descended the steps to the main deck. With an appreciative smile she accepted, lifting the hem of her skirt slightly to avoid tripping over the folds.

"Is your cabin this way miss?"

"Yes my lord."

He smiled secretly. _What a coincidence, so is mine._ Taking her by the arm, he escorted her down the narrow corridor.

-AAA-

The entries in the _Marienburg's_ log were sporadic at best, a fact which puzzled Joseph greatly. During his earlier reading he had noted that it was not uncommon for less than half the days in each voyage to have been accounted for, and that between each entry a varying number of days had often passed. Grunwald soon acquainted him with the reason for this.

"This ain't a naval ship mate, it's a merchantman. In small ships like this one the log is not generally regarded as being very important and it's rare for a captain to keep a record of each day of any voyage. More often than not he'll usually chalk something on the log slate each day but as you've seen very few of those entries will actually make it into the log."

"I see, not very efficient but I can appreciate the reasoning," After all what was the point wasting space in a log with a simple weather recording-no one beyond the ship's master was ever likely to read it. Joseph had checked the log slate earlier, having found it lying in the corner against the wall, but the last chalked entry had been rubbed away long ago.

The first entry in the log was dated to the 5th of November and listed the ship as having departed the port of Miragliano. The entry itself was brief and to the point. In addition to the ship's position it read:

_Weather calm. All cargo secure. Wind north by northwest._

The next entry had been made on the 6th of November and gave the ship's position as having just cleared the Blighted Marshes and coming into sight of the Fool's point Rocks. After this the captain had made his next report on the 8th of November, reading:

_Fool's Point Rocks still well to starboard. Weather fair. Wind north by northwest. Passenger Stephen Reynolds missing. Full search unable to trace him. Assumed lost overboard. Full service carried out._

Once again the following day had been left unrecorded, with the captain having made his next entry in the same barely eligible handwriting:

_Slight cloud cover forming. Wind dropped three points. Topman Jury injured his arm in fall from the mast; I have restricted him to light duties. Seaman John Talbot reported missing, full search carried out, no trace found. Assumed lost during night. Full service carried out._

The elf and the boatswain looked at one another. Two disappearances within two days and in fair weather-that was very unusual. Without a word Joseph turned the page to the next entry, which was dated three days later on the 13th of November. Its description of events was more alarming in content:

_Ship now shrouded in fog, we cannot see the stars. Wind has all but dropped away. Sail maker John Soames and top man Jonah Ferret have disappeared. Full search mounted and no trace found. Crew are in state of panic, Mr. Selby has managed to calm them. Bosun Gerard praying._

Again Joseph's gaze met that of the bosun, their expressions puzzled, if the crew were in a state of panic then things were very serious indeed. The reference to the Bosun's actions was also unusual; for the captain to have taken to recording such trivial events in the log indicated that he too must have been very concerned at these events.

"Is fog common around these parts?"

Grunwald shrugged, "it's not common but it does occur."

The following entry continued the usual two to three day gap pattern:

_Ship becalmed. We have been shrouded in this fog for two days. We cannot see the stars. Tried towing the ship using the yawl without success. Crew increasingly agitated. Four of them sick, no understood cause. Have confined to hammocks. _

"Before we read any further," Joseph reached over for the punishment book and began rifling through the pages, "I took a look through this earlier and I saw there were several punishments administered during this voyage. It seemed that they increased in number as time went on."

"You certainly have been busy mate."

"There's precious little I can do to help you sail this vessel so I decided to make myself useful in here. Just as well seeing as you can't seem to read this."

"It's not that I can't read it, it's just that I find it difficult to understand and it would have taken me a while to make sense of the whole book. Whoever this captain was he clearly never had much of an education."

"I see," _in my experience not many of your race have human_. Joseph continued to read through the book, finally finding the page he was looking for. "Here it is, a sailor by the name of Finn struck the bosun after being ordered aloft. Received a dozen lashes as punishment. That's another thing that puzzles me, according to this book the captain rarely ordered any floggings since he took command, yet here he has ordered no less than five since the fog descended."

"It would be my guess that the panic he describes was not confined to the crew."

"And he used them to take the edge off his own anxiety?"

Grunwald's expression was grim. _I wish this was the only time I've heard of such practice_.

The captain had next made an entry on the 16th of November:

_Ship still becalmed. Bosun Jessop disappeared just before morning, he had made his rounds and was going below decks and no one has seen him since. We have searched the ship twice over and found nothing. This fog seems never-ending, the crew are in hysterics. Two men in knife fight today, one badly wounded. Punishment carried out at roughly eight bells. Mr. Selby and I are barely maintaining the calm. Ten crew are now confined to hammocks, their condition still deteriorates but we do not understand why. The men appear lethargic and noticeably pale but we cannot trace the cause of this illness. Some of the crew suspect a fever may have broken out-Sigmar help us if this is true. _

By now the panic was evident from the tone of the writing as well as the words themselves. After this the entries had become more frequent, with one being entered every day, in some instances the writing in each entry appeared to vary slightly in different sections. Joseph surmised this to be an indication of the captain having written part of the entry during the day and then adding the rest later on.

_November 17th, ship's position unknown. Still becalmed in fog. Passenger Richard Jordah disappeared, crew reported seeing shadow in the bows, search has revealed nothing. Mr. Soran died this morning from wounds suffered in knife fight on 16th, crew wish his killer hanged, have managed to restore calm. We had believed he would recover, he was coming back to us but this morning he was as white as a sheet. A few drops of blood on hammock by his neck but Mr. Selby changed his bandages late last night and reports the wound had hardly bled. Two of the sick crew (James Carravel and Ted de Grasse) have now died, cause unknown. Cannot understand this. Foul smell pervades area around corpses, unable to locate source._

At this point Joseph found a slight break, indicating two entries on the same day.

_Mr. Selby has reported increased discontent amongst crew. Top man John Farr fell from mast and broke his neck. All burials carried out today. _

_November 18th, the fog has not lifted and the wind refuses to come. All efforts to tow the ship clear have failed; even fully manned the yawl cannot exert enough pull. Mr. Alec Frohike vanished last night, crew has reported seeing shadow in bows and between decks. In both cases it vanished before they could investigate. All crew now praying. Sailor struck me during evening watch, but I have managed to restore calm. As punishment we have let some water into the hold and he will pump it out tonight. _

Now that was strange-why list a punishment in the log book. Inspection of the punishment book found that it had not been detailed.

_November 19th, we are still becalmed in fog. I regret to report that earlier today the crew have taken Mr. Archer and executed him. I believe they thought that by disposing of the man for his killing of Mr. Soran they could alleviate our run of ill fortune; however their attempt has not worked. Another fight broke out today, Mr. Selby was attacked when he tried to intervene and had to subdue his attacker. The crew is arguing that we should abandon ship and take our chances in the yawl. So far they obey my orders to stay on board but I fear that if this continues for much longer then discipline will break down. Foul smell now pervading throughout the ship, still unable to locate source. Eighteen men now confined to their hammocks, have attempted to post guards on them but the rest of the crew refuses to go near them, many are now certain fever has broken out on board. _

_November 20th, position still unknown. It seems like forever since we last saw the stars. I received some alarming news-during the night the yawl has been damaged. Three large holes gauged into the keel making it unseaworthy. Mr. Selby going to attempt repairs but has confided in me he does not hold out much hope. Fever is getting worse, four more men have fallen sick and another three were found dead this morning. Everyone including Selby praying to Sigmar and Manann._

The last entry in the log was the longest and most alarming by far:

_November 21st, this fog seems determined to hound us to the end and the wind refuses to resume. Mr. Athos was found dead on deck, his neck broken and his skin drained white. Attempted repairs to yawl have been smashed. Funeral service carried out immediately. I have ordered every man to be armed and we will conduct a full search of the ship. Whatever is causing this evil I intend to route it out and destroy it. The men are all eager to begin. _

_Something terrible has happened; our search has found the cause in the hold. I have given up all hope of escape, I write now in the hopes that if anyone finds this then our plight will be made known. The facts are as follows. Our search went well throughout the ship until we reached the hold. I descended with several men including Mr. Selby. After our initial search found nothing we decided to open the cargo crates. I do not know what made us decide this; perhaps we were simply ready to try anything after our lack of success. The first two crates we tried were clean, with only general cargo. The second was anything but clean. When we pried it open we found what we thought was a corpse. It was a terrible sight, the flesh drawn, haggard and cadaverous in appearance. The skin of the face in particular was taut as though stretched back to reveal every facial bone. The lips were drawn back and showed foul yellowed teeth and from the coffin itself there emerged a smell that can only be described as unholy._

_After all that had happened I had no desire to have this thing on my ship and ordered it moved above deck and flung over the side. Two of the men moved to obey and the corpse suddenly came to life. I cannot believe anything could move that fast. In one movement it reached up and seized one man and snapped his neck. Before anyone could react it seized the second man threw him across the hold. I am certain he is dead, for he did not rise again. Mr. Selby attacked it but his cutlass had no effect on the beast. It seized him and bit his neck. I can still hear the slurping sounds the creature made as we retreated. We have now barricaded the creature below decks but it has begun to strike at the hatch cover and this is starting to buckle. Its strength is immense._

_The men have retreated to the deck, though I think some may be venturing to the passenger's cabins. I know not what they hope to achieve. They are many, they have armed themselves but I do not believe they will prevail after what I have witnessed. The fog has not abated and the yawl is still wrecked. There is no escape. I have barricaded myself in the cabin where I will make my last stand, and I hear the sound of screaming now. _

_Sigmar preserve us, it is coming! _

There was nothing more. This was the last entry. After this the captain must have sealed it away in his desk just before meeting his end.

Joseph and Grunwald stared at the log. For a while neither spoke, both shocked and disturbed at this strange turn of events.

The elf's hand rose to his brow, "Oh Gods!"

"Oh Gods," Grunwald echoed him in a hushed voice, the enormity of their predicament having hit him like a blow to the gut. This was far worse than he had imagined.

Though neither man had encountered such a creature before they could both guess what it was. Anyone who had grown up in the Empire would have heard the tales told by mothers to naughty children of the strange creatures who lurked in the deep forests. Creatures of the undead that were said to stalk the living in search of fresh blood in order to sustain their existence in this world. The existence of such beings had never been officially confirmed and many of the higher class had long since dismissed them as a myth. If such creatures did exist then it was reasoned that they would mount raids such as the orcs and beasts of chaos had so many times in the past. But throughout the entire history of the Empire, and long before its founding, no such attempt had been made. Now the belief in such creatures existed only amongst church clerics and the highly superstitious country folk.

The two cabin dwellers were rapidly becoming believers themselves.

Grunwald got up abruptly, "do you remember where we put the torches?"

"I do," Joseph was already reaching for his sword and cloak.

"Get them lit, I'm having that hold sealed off and I want every man armed. Come tomorrow we will call the _Vulture _alongside and bring in extra crew to search the hold. Until then we can only keep an eye on that hatch, and pray."

He strode out through the cabin door and hurried out to the main deck. Soon every man was awake and scrabbling for weapons in response to his orders.

-AAA-

"Really sir, I must insist I leave now."

"Well now, this is an unexpected change-only a minute ago I couldn't keep you away from me."

"My lord I assure you..."

Atcher cut her off, "Don't interrupt your betters woman, most people of your class would consider it an honour to have a noble take such an interest in them. Or perhaps you think yourself better than me, is that it!"

Louisa fell back against the wall, her glance looking for an avenue of escape. Atcher followed, leaning forward and placing his right arm against the door between her and retreat. This was turning dangerous-she could smell the alcohol on the man's breath and knew that if she did not handle this carefully it could turn ugly very quickly.

"My lord, I meant you no offence, I only meant to say that it would not be proper for someone such as myself to consort with a nobleman, and my mistress is expecting me shortly and she would not be pleased if I was to return late."

"Nonsense, your mistress can certainly spare you for the night," he caught hold of her cloak and forced her back up against the wall, clamping his hand over her mouth before she could scream. "Now listen little one, I am growing tired of this game and I intend to put an end to it right now. It would be easier and much more…enjoyable for the both of us if you just stopped making such a damned fuss!"

Louisa struggled in his arms but the nobleman's grip was too strong to break. Using his greater weight to his advantage Atcher attempted to force her further into the cabin.

Suddenly something struck the back of his right knee, causing it to buckle. As he fell a hand seized his hair and with a swift jerk sent him sprawling to the deck. Atcher's head struck the planking hard and his vision swam. He shook his head fiercely, trying to clear his head and see his attacker.

Elaine Brionne stared down at him, arms folded across her chest and her face set in a stern expression. Her long brown hair now hung freely around her shoulders and her blue eyes were cold with anger. "I would ask what is going on here but I think I have seen enough Atcher. I was certain that you were no good from the moment I saw you and it seems that you have proved me right."

Atcher glared back and hauled himself to his feet angrily, the alcohol firing his blood. "You bitch!" He lunged forward, "I'll teach you some manners!" Under normal circumstances the manners drilled into him during his upbringing would have asserted themselves. Confronted by the two women and with a large group of people near at hand, Atcher would have realised the futility of further action. But the alcohol he had consumed earlier that night had dulled his wits and fuelled his passions. Angered by what he saw as the woman's impudence the young noble swung his right fist in an arc, feet positioned to channel his full weight into the blow

But Elaine did not react as he had expected. Instead of flinching backwards in fear she simply ducked, repositioning her feet and dropping into a crouch as she did so. As her assailant's fist sailed through the air above her head she seized him by the arm and pushed it away from her, using the momentum of his swing to throw him off balance. With a sharp thrust of her right foot the Bretonnian woman then launched herself forward. Taken by surprise Atcher could not react in time and Elaine's knee caught him firmly in the groin, driving the breath from his body. Not content with this she seized him by the hair and summoned all her strength to throw him hard against the wall. He struck face first and fell backwards, rolling into an agonised ball as he hit the deck.

Elaine stared down at the fallen man, a look of contempt upon her face. "You cannot teach what you do not know. I know your sort, you only take advantage of women who cannot fight back," as she spoke she placed her right foot squarely against his neck and leaned forward, bringing enough weight to bear to restrict his breathing, "but I promise you that the beating you received just now will pale next to what I will do if you ever lay a hand on my maid again. Keep your distance!"

Louisa was trembling at the sudden turn of events, being less accustomed than her mistress to such scenes of violence. Calmly removing her foot from the imperial noble's neck Ellaine laid a reassuring hand on the girl's shoulder, "come on Louisa, I don't usually approve of rum but I think you could do with a drop."

Atcher rolled to his knees as they exited the cabin, one hand still clutching his crotch and the other reaching for his dagger. Staggering to his feet he managed to limp to the doorway.

"Bitches, don't you walk away from me-we are not finished!"

Grasping the weapon by the tip he flung his right arm back, eyes fixed firmly on Elaine's unprotected back.

"Right that's enough!" a hand seized Atcher's wrist in a steely grip, halting it before it had completed its arc and sending the dagger cluttering harmlessly to the floor.

Elaine turned at the sound, quickly taking in the scene before her. Atcher stood slumped against the doorway, held there by a sailor. The man was of average height-about five foot eight-and had a lean, tough build, sandy brown hair and was wearing a white shirt and bell-bottomed trousers. He had Atcher's right arm twisted firmly behind his back, his right hand gripping that of the nobleman tightly. His left arm was pressed against the back of the nobleman's neck, forcing his face up against the door frame. From the expression on the imperial's face it was fair to say that this position was causing him no small amount of pain.

Elaine regarded him curiously. "How much did you hear?"

"Enough miss. I think you should take the young lass to her cabin, reckon she's had enough excitement for one night."

"I agree, although I think she could use a small drink." _And come to that so could I_.

"I'll ask the steward to send some to your cabin."

"I would know your name?"

"Armittage," his voice was smooth, the tone even, "Richard Armittage."

"Thank you for your help Mr. Armittage," as Elaine led the shaking girl away Armittage turned his attention to the man he currently had pinned against the cabin wall.

"Mr. Atcher, the captain does not take kindly to having his passenger's assault one another and neither do I, especially if the one being assaulted is a woman. The next time you feel the need to press your affection take my advice and sleep it off. If you try that again I will personally put you out of action for the rest of this voyage!" He released his hold and turned away.

"You have sealed your fate! I promise you I will have the captain clap you in irons!"

"And admit to the fact that you attempted to attack an unarmed woman, or that said woman beat you up. Somehow I don't think so, good evening sir." Armittage strode away down the corridor for the crew's quarters. He knew that the aristocrat would not reveal this affair, if only to spare himself the embarrassment of admitting to his own actions.

Atcher glared daggers at his back. _We are not finished here_. He turned his gaze to the direction the two women had taken. _Not by a long shot_.

-AAA-

The twin moons of Mannslieb and Morslieb shone bright in the sky, bathing the scene below them in their respective white and reddish hues. The two ships drifted slowly and steadily on their parallel course, maintaining contact using each other's stern lanterns and the faint sheen of their sails. Two ships with the great ocean all to themselves.

Suddenly, unnoticed by any on board, a dark shape broke the surface just off the _Vulture's_ stern. For an instant the moonlight glinted off jet black scales before the creature dived back below the surface, heading for the depths of the ocean. It could feel the presence of the two vessels above it, the finely tuned senses contained in hundreds of tiny pores lining the side of its great snout allowing it to detect the faint disturbances caused by their copper-sheathed hulls as they clove through the waves.

Faint memories drifted through the creature's mind, memories of a time when it had been smaller and had hugged the cliffs to avoid predators larger than itself, feasting upon fish, seals and upon the creatures who rode upon vessels similar to the two above it, only much smaller. Things were different now. Now it had grown to a point where few could challenge it, to a size where the objects above were now of particular interest. With effortless grace the creature turned its mighty frame to adopt a course that would take on a circling path of the strange objects above.

For now it would hang back, size up the prey and search for signs of weakness. Once satisfied it would close in and strike.

-AAA-

TBC

-AAA-

OOC: (Definition obtained from Wikiepedia, the free internet encyclopedia), **Marlinspike** (sometimes **marlin spike**, marlinespike, or the archaic **marlingspike**) is a tool used in ropework for tasks such as unlaying rope for splicing, untying knots, or forming a makeshift handle. A marlinspike is basically a polished cone tapered to a rounded or flattened point, usually 6 to 12 inches long, although sometimes 26" or longer, depending on what ply and size of rope they are intended for. The marlinspike is a tool made from metal, usually iron or steel.

Pacificuser-thanks for the reviews. I used to read those books when I was younger-in fact most of the naval terms in this story are being drawn from a diagram of the frigate Undine form _Command a King's Ship_. They are some of my favorite novels.

With regard to the characters levels I regret to say that I cannot do that. I am afraid I do not play Dungeons and Dragons and I have never learnt the rules, therefore I cannot detail the characters as you requested. This is the best I can do at the moment:

* Joseph; mercenary; elf male; neutral; high level; light chainmail shirt, sea dragon cloak, leather. and plate vambraces, katana, bow, dagger, two throwing knives; other equipment-as required.

* Grunwald; boatswain; human male; good; medium level; cutlass, dagger, marlinspike; other equipment as required.

*Sinjun; sailor; human male; neutral; medium level; cutlass; marlinspike, bow; other equipment as required.

* Jonas; sailor; human male; neutral; low level; cutlass; navigation equipment.

*Ragnar; sailor; human male; neutral; medium level; tomahawk; cutlass; marlinspike; other equipment as required.

*Straus; sailor; human male; neutral; medium level; cutlass; bow; other equipment as required.

*Erard, sailor; human male; neutral; low level; cutlass, dagger, other equipment as required.

As to your other request-well I'll see how the story plays out. For now just keep reading to keep your eyes open. To everyone-please read and review.

-AAA-


	7. The Search and the Serphent

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story-however much I may wish otherwise!

-AAA-

Dawn broke slowly, the sunlight rising over the horizon to turn the ocean gold under its rays. Within the hour the _Vulture's _cook had stoked up the fire in the vessels galley and began to prepare the morning meal. At eight bells the crew were roused and reported to the galley for the regulation broth. The men greeted it with little enthusiasm-it was enough to keep them all in good condition but tasted about as bland as lump of wood. The passengers could look forward to having something more tasty served with their helpings-a portion of rice or perhaps a couple of sugared biscuits purchased at the last port, but otherwise their lot was the same. Nobody complained any longer, for nothing good ever lasted more than a few days at sea.

Once finished the watches were changed and the men went about their allotted duties of unfurling the sails, inspecting the stores and scrubbing the decks clean.

Inside the chart room Varus roused himself and moved over to the basin, emptying the jug of water left by his steward into the metal vessel and reaching for the shaver. Once ready he planned to take a turn on deck and establish communications with the _Marienburg_. With any luck the boatswain would have some good news to report on the ship's condition and that of its cargo. It had better be good too; for Varus had no doubt that young pig Atcher would be reporting this incident to the ship's owners. The nobleman had been less than happy that his wishes to be on their way had been ignored and would probably use his reports as a means to seeking some petty vengeance.

Up on the quarterdeck Selby glanced at the brig's distant form. The two ships had drifted further apart during the night but had thankfully managed maintain parallel courses. He took a bearing on the compass and noted with satisfaction that they were still sailing along the correct course and should reach their destination within the next few days. Not for the first time he lamented the _Vulture's _slow speed. With a deep, rounded hull and heavily laden with cargo she created a lot of resistance in the water. Adding to the problem was a lack of refits during her long career, meaning that the hull itself had long become encrusted with trailing weeds and barnacles. These had all combined to make her one of the slowest ships he had ever served on. A fast brig like the _Marienburg_ would have covered the same distance in a third of the time it would take this ponderous old tub.

Raising his spyglass the Master studied the brig again, noting the solitary figure at her wheel. When the captain came on deck he intended to request permission to go across in the cutter. Somewhere on board that ship there must be a clue to the fate of his brother and he intended to find it.

Meanwhile up in the crow's nest Richard was watching the ship with his own spy glass, taking in the current trim of her sails and her flaking paintwork. From this distance she did not look so ravaged, but the slack trim of the sails was still quite apparent. Personally he doubted there was much chance of salvaging anything worthwhile and could not understand the captain's decision to risk his own ship in these waters for a floating wreck.

Still orders were orders and he had to obey, however ludicrous it might seem. He checked the horizon again and was thankful to find it still empty. Now his thoughts returned to matters that were closer to home. So far Atcher had not stirred above decks and the captain had not yet mentioned anything to him concerning last night's incident. He was going to have to watch his back for now though. Although he doubted the nobleman would go public with the matter that did not mean he would simply let it drop, men like that were vindictive to the core and would rival a dwarf in their ability to hold a grudge. He would be glad to see the back of that one when this was over.

_You've put your foot in it this time alright. Somehow I doubt our employers will be kept in the dark about this._ If they became involved he would probably have to leave, the last thing he wanted right now was the eye of the civic authorities to be turned upon him.

But he also remembered the look he had seen on the young woman's face and felt glad that he had intervened.

-AAA-

Those aboard the _Marienburg_ had turned out slightly earlier than their shipmates as Grunwald sounded eight bells on the ships rusting gong. During the night no one had taken the time to prepare the galley, having being too pre-occupied with making the ship ready for sail. Consequently their breakfast consisted of a mixture of salt pork and biscuits-the legendary 'hard tack'- served with a portion of bread and some water. Once everyone had finished the boatswain took out the bag containing the signal flags and pulled on the halyards, raising the required flags that would signal their own ship to close the distance and join them. A few moments passed and then the merchantman altered course to intercept. The boarding party ran up the masts and furled in the mouldy sails, steering the brig into the wind to await her companion's arrival.

Grunwald watched the _Vulture_ approach with a sense of relief. So far he had told only Sinjun of his findings the previous night and the two men had agreed that the crew should only be told a limited amount of information, they were jumpy enough as it was and there was no sense in putting them even further on edge. It would only be a matter of time before details leaked out-in a small ship like this very few things stayed secret for long-but for now at least they had managed to keep the discovery under wraps.

-AAA-

"Are you sure about this?" Varus paused in his pacing of the cabin and returned his gaze to the boatswain. Grunwald had reported back on board the _Vulture_ forty minutes ago and had just finished making his report.

"Yes sir, the log entries were very specific."

"And you think that this creature might still be aboard?"

"That I cannot say sir; we found no trace of it when we searched the hold but that was only a cursory inspection. I cannot say that we did not miss anything the last time."

"And you have a suggestion I take it."

"Yes sir, I propose to take back some additional armed men and search the hold in full. We've pumped out all the water and we can make a full inspection now. If there is anything down there then we take care of it."

"Do you seriously believe it's one of these, what are they called again, vampires?"

"I'm only going by what the elf told me," it came as no surprise to him when neither the captain nor Selby raised an eyebrow at the mention of Joseph's race, the elf had as good as said that the senior officers already knew what he was, "he's the only one who could read the captain's handwriting and this is what he discovered."

"I see," Varus resumed his pacing, "how many men would you need?"

"I'd request four more sirs, if nothing else we'll need some extra hands to get that ship ready."

"You believe that she can be salvaged?"

"I'll have to complete an inspection of the hold first, but as long as we don't run into a storm I reckon we can make Magritta. With a bit of ingenuity I'm sure we can manage with a skeleton crew."

"How fast can the brig be sailed?"

"She'll keep pace with this ship I reckon but that's about it. There's so much weed on her hull we'll be lucky to get three knots out of her."

"We are fairly short-handed already you know."

"I know sir, but the _Marienburg _is in a bad state and I am going to need that many men otherwise I won't be able to get her into port."

"Alright Archie," it was a measure of the respect and confidence in which the captain held his boatswain that he was addressing him by his first name in front of other crew members, "take what men you need, and make sure they are all fully armed. Do you require anything else?"

"If it's alright with you sir I'd like to borrow that sigil of Sigmar you have, the silver one."

A puzzled expression crossed the captain's face, "for what reason?"

"If this creature is what I think it is sir, and it's still aboard, then the sign of Sigmar is supposed to hold power over them," he saw the doubt on the man's face, "I promise to bring it back safely sir."

"See that you do," Varus reached into one of his desk drawers and produced a small circular object. It had been presented to him when he took command of the _Vulture_ and was one of his most valued possessions-forged from silver and blessed by a priest of Sigmar, it bore the sign of the hammer and the twin-tailed comet, the symbol of the empire's patron deity.

"Then if there's nothing else you'd better get back. I'll make arrangements to have more provisions sent across once you've finished. Mr. Selby is there anything you wish to add."

"No sir," the Master shook his head, "I think Archie here has everything covered."

"I'll keep an eye open mate," Grunwald turned towards the door. Selby nodded in response, he understood what the boatswain would be looking for. Part of him prayed it would not be found, that way he could at least continue to hope.

-AAA-

Grunwald returned to the ship within the hour, the extra men in tow. All of them were armed to the teeth and ready for action. As the cutter neared the _Marienburg's _side he took hold of the bag he had brought back with him. In addition to the captain's sigil he had taken the liberty of procuring several sharpened stakes broken off from some of the spare planking. Whilst he still had some doubts about the authenticity of the entries in the log it was his intention to be fully prepared for all eventualities.

Joseph watched as the boat approached, lightly tapping the hilt of his sword. Personally he was eager to begin the search. Never really one for diplomacy, the elf preferred to tackle a problem as soon as it presented itself. It had made sense to wait till the morning when they could bring in reinforcements but even so he disliked having to wait, it always put him in mind of the eve before a battle-the calm before the storm as some would put it. He glanced in the direction of the hatchway, noting again the broken lock.

_I wonder how hard this storm is going to hit_.

-AAA-

Leaving Jonas and Erard to watch the deck and keep the ship on course the boatswain led the remaining crew below decks. At his command they all spread out and mounted a second search of the main deck. Every corner was searched; every chest and crate was opened and inspected. Nothing noteworthy was found although some sailors took the opportunity to palm objects that might be of use to them-several coins, a damp packet of cards and in Ragnar's case a marlinspike, well made with very little rust, which he judged it to be of superior quality to the one he had been issued with. Catching the boatswain's eye he put on a questioning look. Grunwald nodded his consent and the sailor pocketed the object. Once they got back to port anything salvageable would be sold off and the former owners of these chests would probably have preferred their belongings to go to a fellow seaman. Better that than let some dockside dealers get hold of them.

The search was then transferred to the rear cabins. This search was performed by Joseph, Ragnar, Sinjun and the boatswain. Grunwald might have been willing to allow the crew to take the belongings of other sailors but he drew the line when it came to the officer's possessions. Again the search failed to yield any results.

Deciding that they could not put it off any longer Grunwald then ordered the hold's hatchway opened. The heavy chest he had ordered placed over the hatch to weight it down was pushed aside and the lid dragged back. Once again the dank stench that pervaded the confined space below wafted upwards to assail the party's nostrils, causing several of them to shrink back in disgust.

"Alright lads," Grunwald drew a scarf over his face in a vain attempt to stifle the smell, "be ready for trouble and keep an eye open for any signs of a leak."

Joseph descended first, dropping the last couple of feet into the hold. His boots struggled for a grip on the slimy planking and for a split second he fought to keep his footing. Quickly steadying himself the elf raised his sword and glanced around, his elven eyes more sensitive to the meagre light than a human's could ever be.

Nothing stirred in the darkness. Behind him the boatswain slowly descended the steps, the torch in his hand illuminating their damp surroundings. He stood aside as one by one Sinjun, Ragnar, Straus and two more men entered the hold. Two of them carried torches for further illumination and all the men were gripping their weapons nervously.

By the light of the torch they were now able to make out the layout of the hold in full. By now the water had been successfully pumped out, though a couple of inches still remained where the pumps could not reach. Grunwald gestured and one of the sailors above them descended with a pair of buckets. Straus passed his torch to Ragnar and together he and the newcomer began to empty the hold, the buckets being passed up to be replaced by others that had been found throughout the ship. Though slightly rotten they would do for the task at hand.

As the men worked their companions explored the hold, the torchlight penetrating the murky water to reveal its contents. The ship's bottom was encrusted with filth-a foul black slime that had accumulated over the years as the hold had slowly filled with water which was never pumped out. It had been this same slime that had caused such problems during the night. Several times the pumps had become clogged with the filth and the sailors had been forced to labour hard to wash them clean. Now that sediment had collected at the bottom, squelching noisily underfoot as the party made their way around.

Now they could see more skeletons like the ones they had found earlier, the brown bones poking out amidst the slime. Two of the skeletons lay down beside a pair of rectangular crates against the starboard side, while the third was spread-eagled near the foot of the hatchway steps. From the descriptions in the log Grunwald could guess who this one had belonged to.

_At least Selby will now know what happened to his brother_.

"Everyone watch where you step, those bones will be very fragile after being under water for so long, and we must give them a proper burial."

The party began by making another search of the floor itself, prodding at the muck with their sticks as the water-level was slowly lowered by the men with the buckets. There were no detectable signs of water seeping in from the hull but all present knew that this could not be established for certain until the muck itself had been cleared out and the bottom planks laid bare.

Various other objects were found amidst the muck. A pair of rusting cutlasses, the two rotting halves of a snapped bow and a discarded hammer and crowbar, of the sort used to force open crates. Joseph caught the boatswain's gaze and jerked his head in the direction of the rectangular crates. Nodding in understanding Grunwald ordered the others to their posts. Ragnar, Straus and the other crewman brought across from the _Vulture _that morning stood to one side, weapons and torches in hand. Sinjun notched an arrow to his bow and levelled it squarely at the crate. Joseph and Grunwald each took a crowbar and, at an agreed signal, jammed it into the gap under the crate's lid. The wood had rotted around the rim and it took only two attempts to remove it. They both sprang back as the lid clattered clear, hands reaching for weapons.

The chest itself was lined with a dark substance that gave off a pervasive earthy smell. Joseph prodded through the material with his sword, but encountered no resistance save the solid planks at the bottom of the crate. Aside from this dark material it was clearly empty. The elf picked up a handful and let it fall through his fingers, wrinkling his nose at the smell. "It's earth, just damp earth."

"Earth? Who the hell goes to all this trouble to transport common soil?"

"Who knows, I didn't see anything about it on the cargo lists. However," the elf reached in deeper and withdrew a large lump roughly the size of a man's fist. Brushing off the soil revealed a rock with a faint green sheen to it. "Jade if I'm not mistaken. It's often imported from the east and fetches quite a price back in the Old World. No local supplies there you see."

Pushing the crate aside they levered open the second one and found it loaded with rotting sacks. Grunwald cut one open with his dagger and gave the contents a quick inspection. "Some sort of plant, but it's too far gone to tell what."

Joseph's brow furrowed. "There was a crate of spices on the cargo list, it could be them."

They spent the next three quarters of an hour inspecting the rest of the cargo, levering open crates and cutting open rotten sacks, rummaging through their contents with strong distaste. Most of the cargo had consisted of spices and fabrics, all of which had long since rotted away or been chewed upon by the rats. Not for the first time the sailors noted the curious absence of any rats within the hold, just as there had been no trace of the vermin on the upper decks. There were plenty of tiny skeletons littering the crates and sludge but no sign of any recent rodent activity, either in the form of a corpse or of a living rodent. Most likely they had died off as the food supply eventually ran out, probably turning upon one another as starvation drove them to the brink. Why they hadn't chewed through the ship's bottom he could only guess.

In the end they managed to salvage a sack full of ivory figurines, probably imported from the Far East, two cubic crates full of jade and a smaller crate which turned out to be filled with gemstones of various kinds. This last crate the boatswain opened himself and he was quick to reseal it, wary of putting too much temptation in the way of men who barely earned enough to live on. They then searched the hold from top to bottom; every square inch was inspected and nothing more was found. There was no trace of anything matching the descriptions in the log book. Whatever had been aboard at that time was clearly no longer here.

_Well, this should make the captain happy._

Realising there was nothing more to be done Grunwald ordered everyone back above decks; leaving two men to continue emptying the hold of sludge and water. The five salvageable findings were moved up against the stairs and Grunwald planned to have them moved up on deck later that day.

He had just reached the top stair when the ship gave a violent lurch, almost throwing him back down into the hold.

-AAA-

Up in the crow's nest the lurch was also felt, the small structure swaying so violently that Erard barely managed to avoid being thrown into the sea below. The young man cursed violently, barely managing to hold onto the support halyards. As he hung there momentarily he risked a glance downward and caught a glimpse of a dark shape breaking the surface several meters from the ship's side. Beneath the waves the thing's enormous outline was clearly visible, calling to mind the tales of the great sea monsters of legend. Erard stared down in horrified fascination as the creature swam away from the _Marienburg_ before turning round to come at them again. Digging his hands in tightly the sailor winced as the ship gave another violent lurch.

_Manaan help us all!_

-AAA-

In the water below the leviathan circled, shaking it head to clear its senses from the force of its strike. As it passed under the _Marienburg's_ weed-strewn keel it arched its body up and down, the barbed tail striking the ship's copper sheathing with splintering force. The creature's primitive brain drifted back in time, recalling other experiences where it had hounded such vessels, often to destruction. These things had solid hulls that were not easily cracked. The trick was to focus its efforts on one point of the hull, to butt, claw and lash until the hard shell broke. Then it could move in against the soft creatures that dwelt within.

Changing direction the creature now headed towards the larger form of the _Vulture_.

-AAA-

"What the hell was that?" Grunwald burst up on deck with the rest of the crew close behind him, eyes scanning the horizon for signs of a disturbance.

"Deck there!" Erard had just caught sight of the party, "sea serpent heading for the _Vulture_!"

"What the..?" Grunwald turned in time to see the other ship lurch violently just as theirs had done. Everyone had run to the railings by now searching for the cause of the disturbance.

"Deck there, she's coming round the _Vulture's _stern."

Indeed they could all now see the cause of the disturbance, appearing as three dark humps, the first of which was presumably the creature's head. As the beast drew closer Joseph felt his breath catch in his throat. The thing was enormous! Its head alone must be twice the length of a man and he guessed the body to be anywhere up to forty feet in length. When the beast had come to within ten feet he was able to make out minor details-the horns and spikes lining the beast's head, the black sheen of its scales and the powerful wash kicked up by the long tail as it powered towards them.

"Brace yourselves lads, she's gonna ram us again!"

Despite the warning two of the men lost their footing as the ship lurched from the impact. From below came the sound of scraping as the thing turned to rake the hull with its claws.

"Sinjun, Straus, stand by the pumps," Grunwald made for the quarterdeck where Jonas stood at the wheel, "everyone else grab a bow, we've gotta kill that thing before it sinks us."

_Great plan, let's use hatpins against an angry dragon._ Joseph hastily grabbed a crossbow from amidst the weapons brought aboard with the last boat. Pulling the string back with an effort he dropped a bolt into position and moved to get a shot at the monster. Beside him the sailors ran to follow suit. Bracing his elbow on the stern Joseph sighted the weapon and fired. He watched as the bolt flew straight and true, striking the creature in the back…only to deflect harmlessly off one of the scales. He cursed sharply.

"Those scales are too thick for arrows men, aim for the head and target the bloody thing's eyes!"

-AAA-

The scene aboard the _Vulture _was near identical as the officers tried to check the panic before it could spread. Mr. Selby, who had been in charge of the last watch, had been alerted by the _Marienburg's _violent lurch and had raised the alarm when the lookout had spotted the leviathan, ordered the sailors to grab their bows and man the bolt thrower. The latter had so far proved useless because it was impossible to depress the weapon sufficiently to fire at the beast. Their one hope was to get off a shot when the creature peeled off to engage the brig.

With a clatter of boots the captain appeared through the hatchway, a small crossbow in his hands.

"What's going on here Mr. Selby?"

"That is sir," the Master gestured over their port side to where the serpent's retreating form was moving towards the _Marienburg_. "As she bears lads!"

At the stern John Tripp peered along the bolt throwers sights, judging the moment when the creature would move into their field of fire. "Get ready," he raised his hand, paused and dropped it, "fire!"

The lever was dropped and the bolt shot from its mounting. Placing his hand over his eyes Selby discerned the small splash that erupt near the creature's back. _The damn thing missed!_

-AAA-

The leviathan detected the splash some two feet to its left, instinctively darting away from the missile. Though startled the beast was by no means deterred from its attack and continued ploughing on through the waves towards the brig, ignoring the arrows that bounced harmlessly off its scales. Its horned head struck the brig savagely, producing a loud splintering sound. Once again the beast twisted over and raked the hull, claws tearing through the thin copper and rotten planks.

-AAA-

In the depths below this conflict another dark shape turned in its path as its senses detected the vibrations sent out as claws tore through copper. As it adjusted its course the newcomer's eyes made out the two rectangular shadows and the leaner, wildly twisting form of their assailant. Beating the water with its powerful tail the creature began a steady, cautious ascent.

-AAA-

Joseph took aim and fired again, cursing as the beast continued on without pause.

It had been going on in this manner for a good fifteen minutes now. Occasionally the creature would withdraw and circle the two ships, gathering its strength to prepare for its next onslaught. Then it would approach from one quarter and make a few strikes on one ship before peeling off to strike the second. By now there was a feeling of panic spreading through both vessels as passengers and crew alike became aware of their predicament. The _Vulture _had managed to make three shots with its bolt thrower but hitting a rapidly twisting serpent is much harder than hitting a slowly moving ship and not one had found its mark. The sailors continued to fire whenever it came within range but their attacks were little more than pinpricks against such a monster. The crews aimed carefully but it refused to raise its head above the water and present an opportunity to target the eyes, its only vulnerable spot.

The brig heeled wildly to starboard under the impact of another strike. Joseph, who had balanced himself up in the maintop, was caught in the act of firing and promptly lost his footing and fell. Instinctively the elf twisted in mid-air, letting go of his crossbow and grasping for a handhold. By luck his left hand caught hold of some rigging and arrested his fall, swinging him down hard against the ropes. Cursing angrily in the names of Morr and Manaan he began a swift descent to the deck.

Above him in the crow's nest Erard was not as lucky as the impact pitched him hard against the structure's side, striking his rib's a bruising blow and nearly pitching him over the side. Only an instinctive grasp for the safety line prevented him from falling to the decks below. Gasping for breath the young man pulled himself back to safety.

Below them on the _Marienburg's _deckRagnar emerged from below and made for the quarterdeck, "Its bad sir that things opened up the planks we've got water coming in at two points now and the pumps are barely keeping pace."

"Sigmar damnit!" Grunwald ran to the side as the creature began moving back towards the _Vulture_. This was serious-if the ship went down then it would take them down with it, they had no boat of their own and the yawl was completely useless. This floating wreck could not take much more punishment and their arrows weren't even hurting the beast. If the bolt thrower didn't get a hit soon...

-AAA-

Varus gripped the railing tightly as the ship gave another lurch in response to the creature's attack. A scream erupted from up forward as one of the topmen lost his footing on the mast and fell, hitting the deck with a sickening thud. Two of his ship-mates immediately ran to attend to him as the ship steadied under their feet.

"Kessler get down below and check the hold, Lord Sigmar only knows what damage this thing has done."

As the man hurried away he turned to the men crewing the bolt thrower, "can't you lot hit that thing, it's bloody massive!"

"S'not that easy sir," Trip paused in the act of helping to turn the weapon, "I think it's worked out what we're doing here, as soon as it gets to where we can get a shot off it goes below the surface. What with the waves and its damn twisting it's hard to even track the thing."

"Well keep firing, that damn things going to stave in the hull at this rate!"

-AAA-

The leviathan had just completed another gore attack and was now circling round under the _Vulture's _stern, eyes fixed upon the brig's form. As it came into view from the stern windows, too low to present a target for the bolt thrower, the beast raised its head clear of the water and unleashed a fearsome roar, a roar and a sight that froze the heart of every man on the two ships.

The thunderous sound issued forth from a great elongated maw lined with sharp yellowed teeth, teeth that curved backwards like a butcher's knife. The scales lining the throat were pale white in contrast to the black of its upper scales, a colour scheme that would serve to conceal it perfectly from both predator and prey. The dark scales blended perfectly with the depths of the ocean and the white under-scales made the beast all but invisible when viewed from below. Two great horns jutted from the back of its skull and a row of smaller ones enclosed the rest of its head in a protective ring. As though to display its contempt of these puny attacks the beast hung there for a moment, allowing the people on board to take in the full horror of its appearance.

Then, before the beast could withdraw below the waves, something happened that would later cause consternation to spread amongst the crew. From the stern windows of the _Vulture_ a beam of molten fire erupted, travelling outwards to strike the serpent behind the head, directly at the spot where its hard upper scales slopped down to meet the softer under scales. For a moment the toughened skin resisted the searing heat, and then the fire burnt past this natural defence to the soft flesh beneath.

The beast roared again, this time in pain. In an instant it dived down deep into the waters below. All thoughts of its prey vanished from the thing's mind, it had been hurt for the first time in many years and its soul concern was to get as far away from the source as possible. So it continued its dive, the water dousing the burning agony at the base of its skull.

-AAA-

From his position aboard the _Marienburg _Joseph gaped in disbelief. _What the hell! Where did that come from?_

Up in the crow's nest Erard echoed his thoughts, knowing that there was nothing on board the merchantman which could have produced such a blast.

-AAA-

TBC


	8. Man the Pumps!

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from this story.

-AAA-

"Everyone please calm down, we are going to get through this."

"No no it hasn't left, I know that things out there and its going to kill us, it's going to kill us all!"

"Stop that!" Ellaine gave the hysterical woman a sharp slap, trying to calm her down.

When the alarm had been sounded most of the passengers had gathered together in two of the cabins under the poop deck, somehow feeling safer in these quarters than they had in the more cramped cabins under the forecastle. In all there were twelve passengers-seven men including Atcher, four women including herself and her maid and one child-a young girl aged about twelve. Four of the men had gone above decks in an effort to assist in the battle with the creature; the remaining ones were now grouped together on the beds of two adjoining cabins.

With the ship's crew fully occupied and with no one willing to take charge of the passengers Ellaine had taken the responsibility upon herself, gathering the group into the two largest cabins in order to keep them out of the way of the defenders. Deep down she was itching to go up on deck, grab a bow and join in the action but when the serpent had launched itself against the hull everyone had been thrown around the cabin. Both the mother and her child had quickly become hysterical, threatening to run out on deck. With Louisa's help she had managed to get them to sit down and was now trying to restore calm with mixed results. Louisa had managed to soothe the child but the mother was a different matter and right now Ellaine was being forced to restrain her with help from Michael, a young trader who had boarded the ship at L'Anguille.

She hated having to sit on the sidelines like this; it was not what she had been trained for.

Born less than twenty five years ago in the kingdom of Bretonnia, she had been the only child of a knight of the realm named Michael Brione. A man of good standing, he had held a sizeable fiefdom to the south of the city of Quenelles and was renowned throughout the land for his skills as a warrior. Under his rule the fiefdom had somehow endured against repeated raids from orcs, beastmen and from rival knights. That time of prosperity had ended six years ago. During the winter a large horde of green skins had swept in through the pass below the border city of Parravon, overwhelming the garrison that had barred their path. The Duke of Parravon had swiftly marshaled his forces and led them into a pitched battle which had lasted several hours and left no clear victor. Whilst the knights stopped to bandage their wounds the orcs had seized the opportunity to steal away during the night, heading for the heart of Bretonnia.

Called upon to defend the realm her father had led his own retinue to join up with the forces of the Duke of Quenelles. After a three day march they had intercepted the green skin horde before it had time to cause great devastation. As battle was joined the army of Parravon had arrived in time to take the orcs in the rear. Caught between the hammer and the anvil the green skin army had been decisively crushed, with few survivors.

Her father had never returned from that battle. She had learnt of his fate from the men who had fought with him that day. Early on in the battle he had been leading a group of knights to perform a sweeping flank attack when they had been confronted by a large mob of goblins garbed in black cloth. Anticipating a quick breakthrough her father had signaled the charge. As the knights had approached the green skins had released from their ranks several goblins bearing great balls of iron on chains. These creatures had ploughed through the approaching knights, crushing man and horse alike with their terrible weapons. Undaunted the knights had rode onwards, the goblins scattering before them. But one of the fiends had done for her father, crippling his horse with a single blow and causing the beast to fall, crushing the knight beneath its weight.

The news had hit their fiefdom hard. Wracked with grief Ellaine's mother had retired to her room, where she had died a month later. Doctors had been unable to explain the cause of death but her daughter had known the truth-she had died of a broken heart.

Thus it had fallen to the knight's young heiress to assume leadership of the fiefdom. Her father, having long given up hope of siring a son, had done his best to prepare his daughter for this outcome. For as long as she could remember Ellaine had been schooled in the arts of both statesmanship and swordplay, to the point where she could match any knight errant in a duel. Ultimately her father had hoped to marry her off before his time came and therefore ensure the safety of the fiefdom, but at the time of his loss he had failed to find one whom he had deemed worthy of such a position. And thus far so had she. Several efforts had been made by the nobility to force her into marriage with a suitable knight, but each time the young woman had managed to find a way out, determined that she would only wed to one whom her father would have deemed worthy of her affections.

All of which had meant that the defence of the fiefdom now rested upon her shoulders. Unable to bring herself to sit back whilst others went to war she had donned armour on two separate occasions and led her retainers against marauding beasts of chaos, scattering them on both occasions. Amongst the nobility it was unthinkable for a woman to ride to war, so to protect her identity she had been forced to purchase an unmarked suit of armour and conceal her features behind the visor, passing herself off as a Questing Knight to any who had asked.

Now being forced to sit here and look after a passenger was proving highly frustrating. But with no one available to take charge of the woman Ellaine had to fight down the urge to rush up on deck and remain with the passengers.

But it was really trying her patience, and when the hull gave another lurch she could take no more. With another firm slap she finally managed to calm the near hysterical woman. "Louisa keep an eye on her, I'm going to take a look around here."

The ship lurched under Ellaine's feet again as she exited the cabin. From the stern cabin there came an almighty crash followed by high-pitched screaming. Gritting her teeth the young woman ran towards the stern and the screaming, dreading what she might find.

-AAA-

It took a while for the departure of the danger to register in the minds of the souls onboard the two ships. At first many believed the creature had simply pulled away to make yet another attack. Only slowly did the realisation dawn that their terrifying ordeal was finally at an end.

From where they stood on the quarterdeck Varus and Selby watched the beast retreat until its vast bulk was swallowed up in the dark depths below the waves. The Mate heaved a shaky sigh of relief, judging by the sounds of the splintering he had heard from below it was doubtful the old lady could have taken much more of this. If not for that blast of flame...

His thoughts were interrupted by a sudden burst of noise. Before him the leviathan burst from the water once again. With a huge splash the beast fell back to the surface, a high-pitched roar of agony issuing from its gaping maw. And this time Selby saw that it was not alone. Alongside the sinuous serpentine form was a larger, bulkier shape, dark skinned with a massive dorsal fin protruding from its back-a fin that looked disturbingly like that of the brown sharks that had been seen trailing the ship over the last few days. This giant fish's great maw was clamped firmly over the leviathan's throat in a grip that was turning the surrounding sea red. Both men watched in awe at the sight of this life and death battle between two such mighty predators, a sight that few would ever witness.

Almost as suddenly as it had begun the commotion ended. With the leviathan held firmly in its grasp the great fish slipped beneath the waves, dragging its victim with it.

Varus was the first to find his voice, "It would appear…that there is always a bigger fish."

"Yes sir," the silence returned for a moment as Varus collected his thoughts. "Right you lot, don't just stand their gawping, go and get the damage parties to work at once-find out how much damage the hull has sustained. Mr. Selby, have some signals hoisted-I want communications established with the _Marienburg_ immediately."

"Aye sir," without another word the officers began hustling the men about their duties. Slowly the merchantman hove to and came to a stop, her crew hurrying to their allotted tasks.

-AAA-

"I've been wondering captain; did you see that ball of fire?"

"It was hard to miss Mr. Selby;" Varus was no less awed than the Mate, "where the blazes did that come from?"

"Well it's difficult to say but for a second there I thought it came from our stern."

"The stern!"

"Aye sir," Selby folded his glass and moved over to the stern railing, bending over to peer downwards in an effort to locate the source of the strange missile, "looks like that brute leapt up and took a bite out of it sir."

It was true-the stern windows had been smashed and there were numerous deep gauges in the wood and paintwork directly below them, partly obscuring the ship's name, "a real dockyard job that one I think."

Varus swore loudly when he had first looked down on the damage, not surprising since the captain was the one who would end up paying for the repairs. Most ship's captains were expected to keep their commands reasonably presentable and the _Vulture's _owners were no exception. Keen to rake in a profit from the increasing passenger trade between the various ports they had converted a number of their vessels to contain extra cabins. In order to increase a ship's chances of attracting such passengers the captains had been instructed to maintain their ships at their own expense, failure to do so could result in stoppage of pay or even dismissal. It was an expensive undertaking given the amount of paintwork involved, especially for a ship the size of the _Vulture,_ and gilding of the more ornate stern incurred even greater expense. The _Vulture's_ paintwork had begun to fade since her last overhaul four years previously, but now Varus would be forced to bring the planned refit forward. And from the looks of things it would not be cheap. He just hoped that Grunwald had found something reasonably valuable on board the brig; otherwise the captain's mood was likely to turn surly for the remainder of the voyage.

"Come to think of it, I had men stationed in there...shit we'd better check on them!"

"Agreed," Varus strode away towards main deck. "You two there," at his command two sailors paused in their duties. The first one, a thin man in his mid twenties, was ordered to find the carpenter and have him sound the hold. Following this he was to assist the carpenter in carrying out an immediate inspection of the hull. If there was a leak then it must be found and plugged quickly. The second man, a balding sailor of around forty, was sent to assist the lookout up in the crow's nest in case their friend the great shark decided to put in a second appearance.

"We'll get this ship in order and then we'll go and check on the _Marienburg_. If we've been hit hard then I really hate to think what that thing might have done to that rotting hulk."

-AAA-

Atcher gave a satisfied grunt as he tried the door to his cabin, pleased to find that it was still locked. As a rule he trusted no one and would not have put it past the captain to have someone raid his cabin for goods during the confusion. The report was already half finished and he intended to make sure that it reached the ship's owners when they called at the next port. He was privately furious with the captain for their current delay-after all had Varus not been so insistent on salvaging that wreck of a brig then they would have been well to the north of their current position by now and well away from that accursed monster.

_The man's a fool; how he ever got a command I'll never know_.

As the noble turned to leave he came face to face with a trio of sailors led by Gerwain the sail maker. Barely acknowledging him the men hurried past and headed for the stern cabin. He watched them go, shrugged and turned for the steps to the main deck. As he passed the cabins where the passengers had taken shelter, the young noble caught sight of Ellaine Brione's maid through one of the doorways. She gave him a wary look and his hand lifted to unconsciously brush the bruise on his face. _This isn't over woman. Nobody does that to me and gets away scott free!_

-AAA-

_14 weeks previously._

_Atcher hit the cobbles of the pavement, rolling over to strike his head against the stones. Behind him the pimp rested his hand on the door latch._

"_I don't give a damn who you are, when one of my girls says enough that means enough. If I catch you round here again I'll gut that worthless hide of yours like a fish_!" _With that he slammed the door shut._

_Atcher glanced up groggily at the sound of approaching footsteps. With a barely audible grunt the man took his arm and pulled him slowly to his feet, helping him over to sit on an old barrel lying against the alley wall. Reaching into his pocket the newcomer produced a handkerchief and began to dab at the blood that was flowing from the nobleman's broken nose._

"_Did you see the girl earlier?"_

_The newcomer nodded._

"_Deal with her and with that upstart keeper of hers Boris, I want the lesson rammed home."_

"_It will be done my lord."_

_-_AAA_-_

It was sad really, the girl had been a rather enjoyable young wrench, but the point had to be made. After what his servant had done it was doubtful that she would be entertaining any perspective clients now. As for her pimp, well he preferred not to think about what Boris might have committed that night-the Ungol tribesmen of Kislev were not well known for being either gentle or subtle when given such tasks and whilst the man's loyalty was beyond question there were times when even Atcher felt nervous around him.

The man in question rounded the corner at that moment, swaying slightly in time with the ship's motion. Boris Klaus hailed from the northern realm of Kislev and had served Atcher's family for the last eight years, acting as both bodyguard and 'hatchet man' when required. Standing over six feet tall with dark black hair and an equally dark moustache the man cut a sinister figure in the dark corridor. Heavily built with a battle-scarred face and small dark eyes, his fearsome appearance was further enhanced by the two large hunting knives attached to his belt. The man had frequently proved an effective deterrent to those who might make trouble for Atcher, unsubtle as he might be at times.

After checking that no one was within earshot Atcher motioned him closer, "Boris I want you to keep an eye on that woman and her maid. Chart their movements and see where they stay when we put in at the next port. Keep an eye on that sailor as well, the one named Armittage. I have something to pay them back for before this voyage is over."

Boris nodded silently. "do you wish me to act?"

"No, just observe them for now, I will decide what to do later. I trust that you have been carrying out your designated explorations?"

Boris nodded his affirmation.

"Excellent, then everything is going according to plan."

-AAA-

Gerwain opened the stern cabin door onto a scene of devastation. The captain's table and chair had been shunted roughly against the right wall after the initial attack. During the commotion several objects including the pewter decanter had been thrown to the floor where they now lay scattered around the cabin. Most of the panes in the stern windows had been smashed, showering the surrounding floor with sharp fragments of glass. Of the windows that were still intact most had been badly cracked and looked as though they would shatter at any moment and wooden frames of the windows had been badly splintered, with a deep chunk gauged out of the lower shelf. Two quivers of arrows lay under the window, together with a discarded bow and sword.

Richard Armittage lay sprawled beside the desk, his head resting against a red cushion and a thin trickle of blood just visible down the back of his neck. Ellaine Brione was kneeling beside him, dabbing at the blood with a strip of cloth she had torn from her dress. She glanced up as they approached.

"He's unconscious, it looks as though he was thrown backwards and hit his head on the corner of the desk."

Gerwain knelt beside him and pressed his fingers to the man's neck, relieved to discover a faint pulse. Ellaine gently placed a hand to his brow, a look of concern etched onto her features.

"He's breathing."

Gerwain made a further check of the ugly gash at the back of Armittage's head. "Looks like you were right about him smacking his head on the desk." He glanced at the nearest corner, noticing a faint red stain on the woodwork, "he should be alright though. Take him to the main deck and have the surgeon take a look at him."

It was doubtful the trip would do him much good, the ship's surgeon was little more than a simple butcher, all he knew about treating wounds he had learnt from carving through pigs and other animals. Hard drinking and foul tempered, no member of the crew looked forward to a trip to his sickbay. Still as surgeons went he was certainly no worse than the ones most ships had to make do with. As a merchant ship they were lucky to have one at all-one of Varus's better decisions as captain.

As the two men carried their wounded comrade away with Ellaine in tow, Gerwain turned his attention to the window panes. A close inspection of the sill revealed several small red stains, presumably blood, along the left side. The shape of the gash suggested one unpleasant conclusion concerning the two missing sailors. As it came under their stern the serpent had evidently leapt clear of the water. The two sailors, firing at it from the windows, had been taken by surprise. One at least had been dragged from his perch, the second had either fallen or else been caught in the terrible maw. The sail maker dipped his head in a silent gesture of respect.

_There are two I won't have to sew up at any rate._*

-AAA-

Meanwhile on board the _Marienburg_ Joseph was snapped out of his thoughts by Grunwald's harsh voice. Pushing all questions concerning the mysterious burst of fire to the back of his mind he turned his mind to the problems currently at hand.

"What do you wish me to do boatswain?"

Grunwald paused in the act of giving orders to the crew. "Stand by for now Mr. Joseph. I'm going to have to go over the side to take a look at the hull and we'll need someone to help reel out the rope."

"As you wish," Joseph removed his quiver and set it down, leaning casually against the rail.

Grunwald turned back to assigning the men their respective tasks. He had already ordered Erard to remain in the crow's nest to watch for further unwelcome guests, while Jonas was instructed to man the wheel and keep the ship pointed into the wind, the best position in which to perform a hull inspection whilst out at sea. Ragnar he ordered to prepare a length of rope to lower one of them into the water.

"Give him a hand Sinjun, when you're ready to take a look at the hull let me know. I doubt we'll be able to see much under all that weed but it's worth a look."

Sinjun raised his hand in salute, "you going below then Archie?"

"Aye mate, I'll go and see what I can find in the hold. I just hope the damage isn't too bad."

From where he knelt over one of the pumps Straus hailed the two of them. "There's about two foot of water in the hold bosun, and I think its rising."

"God's damn it! Right get working on that pump, we'll need to try and keep the water down. Mr. Joseph, if you'll kindly take the other pump for now I'll have Ragnar relieve you when he's finished on the rope."

_Manual labour._ Joseph masked his irritation. He supposed it was only fair that he pull his own weight around here.

As the elf moved to take charge of the second pump Grunwald turned for the hatch cover. "I'll not be long. Sinjun get some of the men to prepare some sailcloth, if there is a leak then perhaps we can plug it."

-AAA-

Grunwald descended the slime-strewn steps gingerly, torch in hand. Beneath him he could see that the hold was once again filled with water, the light playing out across it in strange patterns as it swirled in time with the ship's rolling, and somewhere above the sound of the water he could make out the deep squelching sound of the pumps as they struggled to cope with this new inrush of water. Taking a deep breath he took the last few steps.

The water swelled up past his knees, the cold hitting him like a physical blow. Torch held before him the bosun grabbed a piece of timber floating nearby and made his way through the hold, prodding the floor as he went. The inrush of water had disturbed the grime that had settled the previous day and the water was now so murky that it was difficult to make out the rotten planks below. If he could not find the leak by sight then he was going to have to rely on touch.

It took several minutes before he could locate the two breaches. During its frenzied assault the serpent had torn two holes through the brig's keel, shearing through the copper sheathing and splintering the planking to open up the hull to the ocean below. The larger of the two was a good three feet long and had been opened up close to the starboard side of the stern. The second, only slightly less in size, had been ripped out near the ship's bow and through both of these there was now flowing a steady stream of sea water. Still the flow did not feel particularly powerful…

A stray thought crossed Grunwald's mind. Holding the torch high above his head he knelt down and tested the planking with his palm, repeating the manoeuvre at several intervals. There was no denying it, a steady movement as of the inflow of water into a hull. Even more alarming was the realisation that, when he stood up, the water had gained an inch on his legs.

_Oh no_.

-AAA-

By the time he had arrived on deck Sinjun's party had finished preparing the rope and Sinjun himself was preparing to lower himself over the side.

"Hold fast, I'll go and take a look."

Sinjun paused in the act of tying the rope around his waist, "you found something Archie?"

"We've been holed alright, two great brutes right through the hull and the water's flooding through. Ragnar, you are to keep hold of the rope when I go over the side. Sinjun, you are to get the men to get a block and tackle rigged up and get that cargo up on deck, and do it quickly mind. Have the elf stay on the pump and get Mr. Jonas to help him, but before he does that he's to signal the _Vulture_ to come alongside. We're going to need her help real soon."

"It's that bad?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Then why do you need to go down there? If we know the hull..." Sinjun's voice trailed off and he narrowed his gaze. The two of them had served together for a long time. Hailing from similar backgrounds they had formed a firm friendship to the point where each could often guess what the other was thinking. "But that's not what's bothering you is it?"

"Just a theory," Grunwald stripped off his shirt and fastened the rope around his waist, "and I can only pray to Manann that I'm wrong." He glanced over to the hatch as four seamen emerged from below; hauling a mould-covered sail behind them, "just get that thing ready quickly."

-AAA-

Grunwald jumped the last few feet, knowing it was better to get the initial shock out of the way. He was prepared for the cold but the shock was still strong. If anything the water outside the ship was even colder than that which had seeped in through the hull, forcing the breath from his body and bringing him gasping to the surface. Gritting his teeth the boatswain took a deep breath and dived beneath the waves, making for the point where he had seen the hole in the bow.

Now for the first time he realised just how long the weed was. Thick green tendrils trailed downwards from the hull for several meters. From between them small shoals of fish darted in and out, flashing in the faint light like silver coins. Brushing the tendrils aside the boatswain forced his way through the mass. He felt a tinge of panic as a wayward tendril wrapped itself around his leg. Fighting off the feeling Grunwald drew his knife and cut it away. These growths were stronger than they seemed and if his limbs were to become entangled he could easily drown. With a mental sigh he pushed deeper into the green blanket.

Feeling the smooth sheet of copper beneath his fingers the boatswain ran his palms along the hull, cursing as his hand tore on something rough. Weeds were not the only thing to have become attached to the ship, barnacles and other marine life had taken up residence over the years, and their rough shells were easily sharp enough to tear open a man's skin.

Several times he returned to the surface for air, several times he dived again, inspecting different points in the hull. The suction he felt beneath his fingers gave the final clue.

-AAA-

"The pumps aren't keeping pace are they?"

"How did you guess?" Sinjun paused in his work on the block and tackle.

Grunwald tied a strip of fabric around his torn palm, tying it into a knot with his teeth. "We've got more than a couple of holes to worry about. That creature has forced the seams open. Those timbers down there have rotted badly; my guess is it was partly the copper that was holding them together. Now the planks have been pushed apart and the water's flooding in across the length of the hull.

Sinjun's eyes widened at this new piece of news, "there'll be no way of fixing that."

"I know, get that sail over the side, and have another brought up to cover the other hole. Maybe it'll help stem the intake and buy us some time," he glanced over at the _Vulture_. The ship had altered course and was now moving slowly towards them, her sails flapping as she tacked across the wind.

"Prepare to abandon ship."

-AAA-

OOC: * Part of the sail maker's job was to sew up the dead in a length of sail cloth in preparation for burial at sea.


	9. Goodbye Old Girl

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

-AAA-

By naval tradition a captain, whether he is from the merchant navy or the imperial navy, was to be greeted by a full procession when he reported onboard a vessel. Where one could not be formed it was still generally expected that he would be greeted by as many men as could be spared, but this time Varus's welcome party consisted of only one man. The boatswain, knowing the urgency of the task currently at hand, had given orders that the prize crew were to remain at their allotted stations until otherwise ordered.

Varus returned the boatswain's salute, glancing at the men going about their various tasks. Joseph and Straus had now been relieved at the pumps by Erard and Ragnar. Whilst the elf took a turn up in the crow's nest and Jonas continued to man the wheel the remainder of the crew worked on shifting the salvageable cargo on deck under the watchful eye of Sinjun. The sea chests of the brig's former crew had been the first items brought on deck, together with the skeletal remains uncovered on the ship. These now lay in the centre of the deck together with two of the crates from the hold.

Less than thirty minutes had passed since the end of the sea serpent's attack and already the old brig had developed a perceptible list to port.

"Watch it down there," Sinjun bellowed down into the hatchway, "those buggers are real slippery."

"Report Mr. Grunwald."

"I'm afraid it's bad sir. It appears the condition of the hull was worse than we first thought. The copper seems to have protected it from the parasites over the years but it hasn't been able to keep out the rot. That monster's torn two gaping holes through the keel and that's not the worst of it."

"Please don't try to cheer me up Mr. Grunwald."

"The thing's attack has forced the planks apart. The water is coming in at many different points and we can't stop it. It's taking all we've got just to slow it down"

"What are you saying man?"

Grunwald's face was grim. "She's going down sir and there's nothing we can do. The pumps are buying us some time but they won't keep her afloat much longer?"

"Surely you can plug the holes with sailcloth?"

"We already have sir, but we simply don't know how many holes there are and from the state of the hull I reckon that would only be delaying the inevitable. The planks have been forced apart and we can't fix that, not without a dockyard." In truth the ship had probably been beyond repair well before the serpent had attacked. So rotten had her hull become that the bottom would probably have fallen away by now but for the copper sheath.

Varus stared around, hesitation written all over his features. Having come so close to securing the prize he was clearly unwilling to abandon her to the elements and Grunwald had to fight to control his impatience. Varus was admittedly a better captain than some of the men he had served under but he had one serious flaw-a weakness for gold. It was one that Grunwald had encountered in the past, and he knew that if e failed to take action now it could have deadly consequences.

-AAA-

_Imperial Year 998, Seventeen years ago__._

"_Cap'n, the waters gaining ground, the pumps just aren't keeping pace with it. We've got to abandon ship!"_

"_Hold your tongue Mr. Kent; you'll have the men stand by their stations. That hole will be plugged and this ship will make it to port. I'll not have her or our cargo abandoned to the sea."_

"_The ship's already lost sir! The gash is too deep," the Master reached out to clasp the railing as the schooner pitched violently into another deep trough, sliding smoothly downwards along the back of the wave. At the wheel the quartermaster fought hard to keep the ship's bow pointed towards the oncoming waves now rising up to forty feet in height. The deck tilted again as the ship's bow steered into the trough of the last wave, the gale force winds filling her sails and pushing her upwards. Once she reached the top the wind struck her stern hard and the quartermaster had to fight equally hard to keep her on course. If the' Chimera' were to swing side on into one of the troughs then the next wave would swamp her decks completely, possibly dismasting the ship._

_Skalk, the vessel's captain, a tall lean man with a mane of thick black hair, struck the ship's mate forcibly and sent him sliding across the deck. "You shut your trap," he rested a hand on the cutlass at his side and glared at the two nearest sailors, "anyone else?"_

_Grunwald, one the topmen, edged forward and helped the fallen man to his feet. Without a word the two of them descended the steps to the main deck. _

-AAA-

Grunwald pushed the memory aside. That incident had not ended well. Whilst sailing off the coast of Bretonnia they had been caught in a sudden gale. Forced closer to the coast, their schooner the _Chimera_ had struck an uncharted rock that tore a great gash in her keel. With a valuable cargo of spices in the hold her captain, a despicable gold-grabber, had stubbornly kept everyone at their stations. Ignoring the advice of his most experienced hands he had refused to make any preparations to abandon ship and grimly pressed on for the nearest port.

It had been a useless effort. As dawn broke and the gales began to die down the ship was clearly in a sinking condition, yet still the captain held on. Fortunately a final gust had carried away the topmast, which had fallen and crushed the man beneath its weight. The Mate took charge and gave the order to abandon ship. A makeshift raft had been hurriedly put together and floated off deck and the ship had gone down shortly afterwards. Unfortunately for the survivors the delay in preparing to abandon ship had prevented them from stocking adequate provisions and after two days drifting in the currents the few survivors were becoming half delirious with thirst. Some had resorted to drinking seawater which only made their thirst worst and had it not been for the arrival of a Bretonnian merchant ship it was doubtful they would have survived for much longer.

Whatever happened now, Grunwald was determined not to permit any unnecessary delays this time.

"Captain, we still have some valuable cargo left that should make a tidy profit if we can get it back to port. Their value must be greater than the ship itself and if we evacuate them now then we can still claim salvage rights, but if we delay any longer we risk losing everything." As the man still hesitated he hardened his voice, "sir you must make a decision. Shall we abandon ship?"

Varus was silent for a moment, and then gave a defeated sigh.

"Give the order Mr. Grunwald."

-AAA-

The evacuation was carried out swiftly and efficiently. Once Varus had returned to his ship the prize crew steered the _Marienburg _sluggishlyback into the wind to regain mobility. Under Sinjun's direction the few remaining crates were hauled up on deck and pushed to the side. Everything of salvageable value had now been removed from the hold and made ready for transfer to the _Vulture_, the latter having tacked closer to her consort. Putting her into the final tack, Selby guided the brig alongside with mere inches to spare. As she passed the two crews threw grappling irons across and, with a good deal of heaving, the two ships were brought together with an almighty crash. Grunwald winced as he paused in his turn on one of the pumps, feeling the deck shake under his feet-the last thing he wanted now was more damage to the brig's hull.

While this was going on Straus and Ragnar busied themselves with hauling in the sails so as to give the _Vulture_ the maximum amount of wind should she need to get clear quickly. Once the merchantman was brought to a standstill Varus ordered their cutter lowered alongside and had her hooked up to the chains. The extra pull of a small boat would be useful in pulling the ship clear if required.

The sailor's chests were easily transferred, the prize crew merely passing them up to their crewmates where they stood on the _Vulture's _higher deck. The manhandling of the larger crates was a good deal more difficult, due both to their greater mass and the more fragile state of their containers and eventually the boatswain had to order a ramp lowered down from the _Vulture_. With the aid of a net and ropes the crates were hauled clear one by one without incident. Joseph glanced sideways as the last crate, one of the long rectangular boxes, was pulled clear-for a moment he could have sworn he had heard what sounded like a growl emanate from it. But no one else seemed to have noticed anything and he dismissed it as most probably being the roar of the sea.

The elf looked around slowly and, satisfied that no one was watching him, ran his fingers over the vambrace he had concealed within the folds of his cloak, the one that he had discovered lying atop one of the crates within the _Marienburg's _hold during his first foray into the hold. In the half-light it had been a simple matter to pocket the object without being noticed and once he returned to _Vulture _it would be easy to pass the item off as his own. True some might view it as stealing but, as Joseph had reasoned to himself, if the captain and boatswain had not taken it upon themselves to forbid him to remove objects from the brig then they had no one but themselves to blame.

By this time the _Marienburg_ was listing further down by the head at an angle of roughly 30 degrees. The seamen were finding it increasingly difficult to maintain a firm footing and Grunwald, sensing that the time had come, ordered everyone to abandon ship.

Joseph was the first to clamber aboard, leaping athletically across the gap between the hulls. Straus and Ragnar followed him with Jonas in tow, his instruments slung over one shoulder in their sack. As Erard made to follow them his foot slipped on the railing and he would have fallen but for Sinjun's ready grasp.

"Careful lad, if you fall we won't need to bother painting the hull." Erard shivered at the grisly meaning behind the man's humour. He was well aware of what would happen to a man who fell between the two hulls-there would be very little left of him when the ships pulled away from one another.

Grunwald paused; hand on the railing as he took a final glance around the ship that had briefly been his first command.

"Goodbye old girl." Then without another word he leapt across the gap. One by one the grappling lines were pulled clear, the plank retracted and with a clatter of sails Varus eased his command away, the men in the cutter rowing hard as they fought to pull the _Vulture's_ bow clear.

-AAA-

The passengers and crew had all gathered on deck during the day as word of the impending loss had spread. Once the _Vulture_ was a fair distance away Varus ordered her to turn into the wind where they could observe the final moments of the doomed brig. The passengers moved to the starboard side, standing alongside the crew as they all waited for the end.

Ellaine shaded her eyes against the glare, a pang of sadness tugging at her heart as the brig's list continued to increase. Beside her Louisa drew the shawl closer about her shoulders, watching Atcher warily through the corner of her eye. The nobleman was slouched against the mainmast, his interest in the sinking vessel having long since abated. Boris stood watchfully nearby, arms folded across his fur-lined jerkin. The merchantman's crew paused in their duties, each man turning to watch their companion disappearing beneath the waves.

The _Marienburg's _end was slow and without drama. She did not heel over sharply, nor did her masts break free of their bases. It would have been a relatively peaceful scene but for the distant groaning sounds caused by the timbers being forced apart by the mounting pressure of the water on the hull. Silhouetted against the horizon, the old brig dipped further beneath the waves, going down by the head as the water forced itself into her. As the waves reached her prow she finally leaned over to port, exposing her weed encrusted keel to the onlookers. Then with a final groan she vanished from view, her hull finally swallowed up by the ocean. For a few moments the sea was calm, then a series of small eruptions broke the surface as the air trapped within the hull was forced out of the ship and broke surface. Within minutes of their passing all that remained to mark the end of the old brigantine were a few drifting pieces of timber flotsam.

Many of the sailors remained staring at the scene long after the brig had gone. The loss of any ship was always keenly felt even by the crews of other vessels and it did not fail to escape Joseph's notice that the remainder of the voyage was to pass in a relatively subdued atmosphere.

-AAA-

Varus was the first to break the silence. With a sharp bark he quickly set about getting his ship in order. Glad to have something to do, the men hastened to obey him. Under the boatswain's direction the sails were unfurled and the salvaged cargo quickly moved below decks and secured within the hold. Varus took the precaution of placing one of his most trusted men to stand guard at the hatchway, issuing express orders that no one were to enter without his permission.

As this was going on Selby busied himself with plotting a course and brought the _Vulture_ back onto her original heading for the port of Magritta. Leaving Jonas to man the helm he wondered over to the railing and leaned out, staring back in the direction of the lost brig.

For ten years now he had thought of her, had held onto the hope that somewhere his brother still lived, that the brig and her crew had not perished as many others had believed. But now he had to face the truth, that his brother was dead and would not be coming back. Deep down a part of him had always known this and yet he had held onto that hope in spite of everything, had held on to an empty hope. Sighing deeply he lit his pipe and took a few puffs, his mind drifting back to the day when he had learnt of his brother's loss.

-AAA-

_Imperial Year 1007, Eight Years Ago__._

_Tomas Selby felt a grin break across his face as he caught sight of his mother's house further down the street. Taking a firm grip on the sling-bag over his shoulder the sailor increased his stride, feeling the winter's chill creep through his clothing as night began to descend. His ship, the brigantine 'Cyeos', had put into harbour in his home town of Briach earlier that day and with the cargo unloaded the captain had granted most of the crew a two day shore leave while the ship was overhauled and took on a fresh cargo. When their leave was up they would join up with the convoy that was being formed off the coast of Tilea in preparation for a voyage to the distant lands of Cathay. It would be a long, dangerous journey and most of the crew would likely be visiting the town's inns and brothels, seeking a release from the uncertainty that now lurked at the back of their minds._

_Selby, recently appointed as the ship's master, had decided to take the opportunity to pay his parents a visit. It had now been four years since he had last seen the family, four years since he had sailed away from the port as a master's mate aboard the same vessel. Those four years of braving the stormy seas of the Old World had been well spent. He had studied his chosen trade hard, gained valuable experience of the sea and had finally been rewarded with a promotion. This good news was regrettably tinged with sadness, for two months previously Jonas Babrass, the previous master of the 'Cyeos', had caught a cold whilst on shore leave, ultimately succumbing to the illness. The man's funeral had been carried out the next day, the body sewn up inside a strip of sailcloth and weighted down with a lump of iron. After the funeral rites had been read out the crew had tipped the body over the side, each man saying his own private farewell. It had been a sad day, the old master had been well liked and it was with some trepidation that Selby had accepted the promotion that came his way. _

_Things had settled down since then but he was grateful to have a break. _

_He rapped sharply on the door and it was answered by a middle-aged woman with graying hair. Her lined face broke into a wide smile when she saw her visitor. Before he could speak she had thrown her arms around him in a tight embrace. _

"_Fred, Fred, Tom's come home!"_

_His father's face was equally welcoming. Selby's fingers were almost crushed in the man's vice-like grip and he was unable to suppress a grimace. The old man might be getting on but that strength gained through a lifetime of service on the sea had not yet begun to fade. _

"_Good to have you back boy, it's been getting pretty quiet round here." _

"_Thanks, it's good to see you both. Think I could take a seat? After the last voyage I'm about ready to drop."_

"_Ha ha ha," Frederick Selby laughed heartily, "come in and put your feet up lad. I dare say there's a great deal you want to tell us."_

"_There sure is," Selby dropped his sling-bag beside the doorway, "by the way I don't suppose you've heard from John? It's been a while since I last saw him."_

_The words caused both his parents to fall silent, a grave look descending over their faces. _

"_What's wrong?" _

_A chill ran down his spine. _

_His father gestured to a nearby chair, "you'd better sit down lad, there's something you need to hear."_

-AAA-

At first he had been unable to accept the news. The thought that John, the brother whom he had looked up to his entire life, who had protected and guided him throughout his younger years, who had been the champion fighter of their schoolyard, could be gone. And in a storm no less! The man had never feared the sea, had taken to it ever since he had turned twelve and their father had taken him on board his ship as a cabin boy. It just did not seem possible that the ocean had claimed him.

He had left his ship shortly afterwards to search for John, spending the next two years travelling the coastlines of Tilea and Estalia. He had bartered passage on ships sailing through the area, serving a variety of positions from common sailor to full Master. Travelling by land and sea he had made enquiries at every port, even sailing through the dreaded Sea of Claws to reach the Kisletive port of Erengrad-far beyond the _Marienburg's _normal sailing grounds.

Ultimately the search had proved fruitless. His brother's ship had apparently left port in good weather. The last known report of her came from a group of fishermen who had spotted her sailing a south-westerly course along the Fool's Point Rocks. Nothing had been heard of her since then. She had simply vanished into the vast ocean.

Ultimately Selby had been forced to accept that his brother was gone. The events of the last two days had put the final nail into the coffin that now housed his hope.

Leaning on the railing he took a deep puff on his pipe, blowing the smoke out in a long draught.

_Let him go John._ His father's words echoed in his mind. _You can't bring him back._

-AAA-

That same feeling echoed across the ship. Though the _Vulture's _crew had not known anyone who had served on the _Marienburg_ they were still bound by the fellowship that unites all sailors against the world, by that kinship forged through a lifetime of battles against nature's elemental power. Today they had witnessed the death of a ship, tomorrow they would lay her crew to rest. Even the passenger's were touched by the feeling of loss emanating from these events.

Only one person on board the ship was not thinking about this loss. Inside his cabin, propped up in his hammock, Joseph stared up at the ceiling planks, his eyes tracing the natural patterns of the woodwork. His mind was fixed firmly on what he had seen earlier that day. When the serpent had been struck by that blast of fire he had felt a distinctive sensation, one that had caused the hairs the back of his neck to stand on edge. Only one thing could produce that feeling.

_Well, it would appear that have a wizard in our midst_.

The question was, did the captain know?

-AAA-

TBC


	10. Probings and Farewells

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhmmer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. Of course if the chance were to arise I am open to offers. :)

-AAA-

Two days later and the mid-day sun found the _Vulture_ sailing with a favourable wind across her port beam. It was nearly noon when the lookout sighted the first sail they had seen since the _Marienburg_ had gone to the bottom. An exchange of signals identified the vessel as an Estallian merchantman, a sighting greeted with great relief by passengers and crew alike.

After being informed of this Varus retired to his cabin, ordering the mate to join him within the hour. Upon completing his calculations Selby handed over the watch to Jonas and made his way down to the captain's cabin.

"Come in" Varus glanced up at his visitor, "ah Mr. Selby." His attention returned momentarily to the sailor currently seated before him, "thank you Mr. Armittage, you can go now. The surgeon tells me your fit to work, but I've told the boatswain you're to stay on light duties until we reach port."

"Thank you sir," Richard saluted smartly and exited the cabin, throwing a second salute to the mate as he left.

Selby watched him go, closing the door as the man left, "how's he doing sir."

"The surgeon reckons that he's well enough to work, although personally I think he could use a bit of rest. That was a nasty knock he took back there."

"You've been questioning him about what happened in here then?" As he spoke Selby gestured to the stern windows, or rather what was left of them. By now the shattered glass had been cleared away and the cracked windows knocked out. Only the few undamaged ones around the edge remained, the rest having being covered on both sides with a length of canvas. It would be sufficient to keep out the water until they had put into port but it had only a minimal effect of the resultant draft and also meant that even in the middle of the day the little cabin now had to be lit by lanterns. One of these was currently perched on the desk whilst the other hung from an overhead beam, swinging back and forth in time with the ship's motion.

"I have."

"Find out anything useful?"

"Not really I'm afraid. It seems they were all firing out of the window when that thing changed direction and lunged at them. He says he jumped back and must have caught his head on the desk," as he spoke Varus gestured to the desk corner on his left. "When he puts his mind to it he does recall the beginnings of a scream but after that everything seems to have gone blank."

"So he doesn't know anything about this ball of fire that everyone's talking about?"

"Unfortunately no, as a matter of fact he seemed quite surprised when I mentioned it. Has there been any more talk about this around the ship."

Selby eased himself into the chair previously vacated by Armittage, grateful at being able to rest his feet after a long spell on deck. "I've been keeping an ear open as you instructed. At first everyone was giving thanks to Sigmar for intervening on their behalf, but now that they've had a chance to calm down I fear that some of them are beginning to question what did happen. There's even been talk that it wasn't actually divine intervention, but rather something more sinister."

"Hmph, give people a miracle and someone will always twist it the other way. Is there anyone in particular saying this?"

"Several passengers and some of the crew, but I've noticed that man Atcher seems to have become rather more vocal than the rest."

"I might have known. He's a troublemaker if ever I saw one."

"I've been wondering sir, I mean you two clearly don't get along and he has clearly become a problem for the morale on this ship, so why didn't you just offload him at the next port?"

"Because his father recently purchased substantial shares in the company that owns this vessel Mr. Selby, substantial enough to make him an official partner in all but name and he expects to get a return on his investment. Officially he's sent his son along to inspect the profitability of this trade route, to make sure the company's ships are reliable enough and that their cargoes will yield a sufficient profit to justify further investment."

Selby had no trouble spotting the hidden meaning behind these words, "you mean he's here to spy on us."

"In a nutshell, that's exactly what he's here for, doubtless to report on whom the company needs to retain and how it can 'economise' on employment." He spat out the word _economise_ with contempt. "The man has sailed on two of our ships over the last year, including the _Ark_. Fortunately for him he left her before she was lost."

Selby gave a grim nod, "very fortunate indeed, for him if not for us."

The _Ark_ had been a sister ship to the _Vulture, _laid down in the same shipyard and built to the same specifications by the same master. She had set sail from Magritta some six months earlier this year, bound for the Border Princes with a cargo of wheat and leather. The ship was sighted twice by Estallian fishermen off the Fool's Point Rocks, after that she had vanished into the ocean just as the _Marienburg _had done some ten years before her. Except that in the _Ark's_ case it was soon known what had become of her. Two weeks after her loss a longboat full of survivors had been picked up by a passing merchant ship. Of the five men recovered three were dead, the other two half dead and delirious with thirst. One of them had died later that day without having uttered a single intelligible word.

It had been a full four days before the lone survivor had recovered enough to talk coherently. Identifying himself as a master's mate on the _Ark_, he had told of how their ship had been becalmed* off the Tilean coast when they had sighted three vessels closing rapidly. These had been identified as galleys flying the flags of the pirates of Sartossa, a peril dreaded by all mariners in these waters. Unable to run, the captain had opened fire with the ship's bolt thrower. Though they managed to inflict some damage on two of the galleys they had been unable to prevent the pirates closing in and boarding.

The fight had been short and bloody. Heavily outnumbered, the merchant ship's crew was swiftly overwhelmed. Most of the survivors, and there had not been many, had been taken over to the largest galley. The remaining eight-the captain and the warrant officers, were beaten severely and cast away in the longboat. The meagre provisions they had been allowed had run out within a few days and soon lack of water had begun to take its toll. The mate had gone mad with thirst and, claiming to have sighted land where there was none to be seen, had jumped over the side and disappeared beneath the waves. The next man to go had been the captain. The beating he had endured had been worse than any of the others and, weakened by wounds, he had finally succumbed to the heat. The remaining men had neither the strength nor the resources to conduct a proper burial so they had simply tossed him over the side, the boatswain uttering a few short prayers for the captain's soul to Morr** and Sigmar.

It was six days later when the next one died that the tale had taken on a more grisly nature. With no food and with only limited amounts of rainwater to quench their thirst the master's mate and the others had been forced to take an unthinkable step to ensure their own survival. Instead of committing the man's body to the elements they had used it as a source of sustenance. Though it made them feel physically sick to do so they had cut strips of flesh from their friend's body before committing the remains to the sea. This had kept them alive for longer, but ultimately heat and dehydration had taken their toll and three more of the crew had died. The masters mate himself would surely have died had the rescue not come when it had.

For now the _Vulture's _crew was in good spirits at the prospect of reaching port, but once they had left port and rounded the Fool's Point Rocks that mood would almost certainly change. The pirates of Sartossa were dreaded by all mariners in this part of the world and if captured the merchantmen could expect no quarter. Some of the more fortunate captives might be held for ransom, others might be given the chance to join the pirate crews, but the majority would end their days as slaves, some sold on in the pirate's hometown to various bidders and others chained within the holds of the galleys to man the oars-a long and torturous existence where death provided the only release.

Selby was not looking forward to the last lap of their journey. "Do you think he'll get off at the next port sir?"

"I doubt it. That cargo we are carrying is very valuable to the company and I get the feeling he'll stick around just to make sure we deliver it."

"So he doesn't trust us to do our jobs?"

"That little bastard wouldn't trust his own mother, let alone a group of people he doesn't know well."

"So we're stuck with him then."

"Until the end of the voyage, though hopefully he'll leave the ship once we unload the cargo at Miragliano and then we can sail back in peace. However that brings us back to the reason I called you here. The pirates of Sartossa are bound to be active this time of year and we cannot rely on there being a warship available to escort us to our destination. I was hoping to avoid this but I am considering taking on some more marines once we get into port."

"Marines," Selby raised his eyebrows at this, "No offence sir but I'm a bit surprised that you are willing to open up the ships treasure chest so early." The word 'marines' was effectively a nautical term for paid mercenaries-men who sailed as part of the ship's crew but played no role in handling the vessel. Their purpose was to protect her in the event of an attack and, unofficially, to serve as a shield between officers and men in the event of a mutiny. In these waters attacks by pirates occurred frequently and skilled marines were not too difficult to find. Although their services rarely came cheap a captain who refused them would be placing himself and his crew in even greater danger. Those with any sense would take the lesser of two evils and reach into their pockets.

"I'd prefer not to but I don't see that we have any other choice. I've encountered pirates before and I don't mean to take any chances. I know that you've been to Magritta before and I'd like you and the boatswain to start recruiting them. You'll have a free hand but try not to spend too much, and above all only choose men you're sure you can trust. We don't need any more trouble makers on board right now.

"Don't worry sir, Archie has a good eye for such details and we'll be careful when choosing them."

"Glad to hear it and now," here the captain reached into a draw and withdrew a small book with a black cover. Selby recognised this as the ship's prayer book, "We'll be within sight of the harbour by tomorrow morning so I'm planning to heave the ship to in two hours time to conduct the funeral service. It's time we buried the dead."

Selby nodded grimly. The skeletons brought across from the _Marienburg_ had now been sewn up in small individual sacks of cloth. A number of the bones had been smashed during transit between ships but fortunately Grunwald had possessed the foresight to wrap each skeleton in cloth and store them in separate sacks before they had been moved. At least this meant they could still be buried separately.

"I'm sorry about your brother John; I know that you were hoping for better news than this."

Selby had been down to see the cloth that contained his brother's skeleton. The elf, drawing conclusions from their positions on the ship together with what he had read in the ship's log, had been able to make a positive identification of several skeletons including that of the derelict brig's master.

For a long time he had stood there staring at the tiny sack that contained all that remained of his brother. Twice he had reached out and made to pull back the cloth, but each time had drawn back. In the end he had simply turned and left. He remembered Tomas the last time he had seen him, grinning broadly and waving to his brother as he had sailed away in the _Marienburg_. That was how Selby wanted to remember the man-as a person of flesh and blood, not as pile of old bones.

"At least now I know what became of him sir."

Varus studied his face with a level gaze. "You have to let him go John."

Selby smiled. _Exactly what my father would say. Oh gods!_ A new thought crossed his mind, that when he returned home he was now going to have to tell his parents what had happened. How would they take the news? How was he to break it to them? Selby forced these questions to the back of his mind. He would address them when the time came, until then it was time to deal with his own grief, time to say goodbye.

"I've fixed our bearing sir. If we hold this course we should be only an hour or so away from Magritta come the dawn."

"Good, the sooner we get into port the better I'll feel." Varus did not add that he would be facing two tasks that did not hold much appeal for him. The first would be haggling with the port officials over salvage rights to the cargo they had taken from the old brig-the port officials were a reasonably honest group but they were likely adopt a 'by-the-book' approach to this matter, which meant proceedings could drag out for weeks whilst all parties deemed to have a claim on the brig were contacted. The second would involve submitting his report to the port governor and sending his letters for dispatch back to the empire. They would be placed aboard the first ship bound for Marienburg and delivered into the hands of the company upon arrival. Varus did not like to think of their reactions when they read about the damage the ship had taken. As to the damage itself he was going to have to get the dockyard to make temporary repairs to the stern gallery, at present there was neither the time nor the available funds to have the windows repaired, that would have to wait until they had reached Miragliano.

"Is there a letter you would like me to send to your parents Mr. Selby? I'm sure we could arrange to have it delivered to your hometown."

"There is one sir; I've been preparing it for the last week." The letter would not mention their finding of the _Marienburg_, he would tell them face-to face when he returned this way, if he returned this way of course.

Selby shook off the thought irritably. _Don't start thinking like that_.

Varus nodded. "Hand it to me when we reach port. I'll make sure it reaches them."

"Thank you sir, is there anything else?"

"No, I believe that covers everything. Tell Mr. Grunwald that he's to prepare the bones for burial and that the crew is to report on deck in two hours time for the funerals. The passengers may join the ceremony if they wish, but whatever their choice they will be required to maintain silence."

"Aye aye sir," Selby rose and saluted smartly, turned on his heel and left the cabin. As he made his way down the corridor he spotted the boatswain slouched against the door to his cabin. "Is something wrong Archie?"

Grunwald shook his head, "no there's nothing wrong John." He opened the master's cabin door, "I hope you don't mind but I took the liberty."

Looking through the door Selby saw an old sea chest of dark oak wedged against the wall next to his own. He didn't have to ask where it had come from, he already knew the answer.

The boatswain patted him gently on the shoulder, "I'll leave you to it."

Closing the door behind him Selby moved over to the chest, pulled it clear of the wall and gently opened the lid. It was lined with various possessions-spare clothes, pieces of canvas, pencils and a couple of books used for noting observations. Amidst this collection he discovered a sack containing the sailing instruments his brother had used to navigate his ship from one port to another. Alongside them lay the pewter watch their father had presented to Tom when he had been appointed as master for the first time, the watch that had belonged to him and to his father before him. The old man had been deeply proud of his eldest son that day.

To the right of the chest a collection of papers was stacked, bound together with a length of cord. Pulling the cord clear he read through the first one. It was a letter he had written himself, dated six years previously. He remembered writing it following his own commission as a master's mate, of taking his first step on the promotion ladder. Life was looking very promising for him back then. Tom's return letter had been full of both congratulations and encouragement.

For the first time he felt the tears leave his eyes as the sense of loss finally sunk in.

-AAA-

Joseph descended the steps from the main-deck, his eyes swiftly adjusting to the gloom as he turned to make his way towards the bows. Opening the oak door took him onto the wide open spaces of the top deck. It was here that the sailors would pitch their hammocks from the overhead beams during the night and here also that they whiled away their free time singing, drinking and enjoying various gambling games, several of which he knew were banned on board ship, although in practice the warrant officers tended to turn a blind eye. What the captain would do if he ever found out could only be guessed at.

Several sailors were currently perched around a pair of collapsible tables that had been propped up against the port side, all engrossed in a game of dice that was being overseen by a small wiry man whom he recognised as Nathaniel Peck, the _Vulture's_ purser. Peck was the one responsible for managing the ship's accounts, ensuring that her stores and provisions were adequately maintained and for making sure every last penny was accounted for. Always keen to have as much information as possible concerning his current surroundings Joseph had kept an ear to the deck, making enquiries wherever possible about his current ship-mates. Peck, it seemed, was reasonably popular with the sailors-he was strict and very meticulous but he also had a reputation for being fair. Joseph had sailed on a number of different ships in his time and knew that the position of purser was frequently open to abuse, that a man was capable of making the sailors life very harsh. In particular cutting corners through the purchase of cheap food and clothing was an old tactic that enabled the purser to line his own pockets from the resulting savings. The _Vulture's_ crew had at least been spared this unpleasant prospect.

Some of the sailors nodded politely when they saw the elf's tall figure, but otherwise ignored him. Their attention was focused entirely upon the game.

Joseph's gaze swept the deck, seeking out the one he had come in search of. He was still not sure how to breach the subject without arousing suspicion, but decided it would be better to ask now whilst the events were still fresh in people's minds. Finding no sign of his quarry and doubting that the man would be found in the storage rooms below the forecastle, he decided to try his luck further below decks.

-AAA-

Ten minutes later found him climbing the stairway back to the first deck, having failed to locate his quarry anywhere on the lower deck. His attempt to search the hold had been thwarted by the sailor who had been stationed at the hatchway. The man had informed him, rather gruffly, that no one was to go below decks without the captain's express permission, gently fingering the hilt of his knife as he spoke as though to back up his veiled warning. It would have been amusing to goad the man into drawing his weapon, and even more so to subject him to a sound beating under the pretext of self-defence. In truth Joseph was beginning to find the cramped ship-board conditions a little uncomfortable and exercising below decks was proving rather difficult. He disliked practicing his sword _katas_ in front of others but the cabin was really too small to allow for more than the most basic of movements.

Once they put into port he intended to get some much needed practice.

A shadow blotted out the faint light from above. Glancing upwards he made out the bald head and broad shoulders of the Kisletive named Boris. Joseph had observed the man about the ship on numerous occasions but aside from the odd glance they had avoided each other.

The big man gave no acknowledgement of his presence, but began descending the wide stairway. Joseph studied his face coolly, moving slightly to the right to give him more room. Far from returning the gesture the Kisletive continued down the centre, his broad left shoulder striking Joseph's in a move that, combined with a sudden pitch by the ship, would have knocked most people sprawling against the rail.

But Joseph did not go sprawling. Anticipating the blow the elf merely spun lightly on his feet, keeping his balance despite the ship's rolling. As the man's shoulder grazed his own Joseph hooked his left foot against the Kisletive's ankle and pulled back hard.

Driven onwards by his own momentum Boris went tumbling down the remaining stairs, hitting the deck with a loud thump. The man recovered quickly and leapt to his feet, spitting out some harsh words in his native tongue. But by the time he looked for Joseph the elf had already vanished from view. Only some faint words in a soft, melodious voice drifted down the hatch in answer to his curse.

"Try not to be so clumsy in future."

-AAA-

Ignoring the string of curses rising from below decks Joseph ascended the last remaining steps to the top deck. He had just decided to seek out the boatswain to find out where his quarry had gone when the door leading to the stern cabins opened and Richard Armittage stepped out.

_Well well, here's one mystery solved_.

He returned the sailor's nod with one of his own as the man made to slip past him. "Armittage isn't it.?"

"It is; can I help you at all?" Like many on board Richard was a little wary of this particular passenger-he might have assisted in the defence of the _Marienburg_ but prior to that he had kept completely to himself, actively discouraging all attempts at conversation. It felt rather strange that he should suddenly initiate one like this.

"I think you can. I know we'll be putting into harbour tomorrow morning and I intend to leave once we do. I haven't actually been to this city before and the bosun tells me that you have. I wonder, could you perhaps spare me a few minutes." When the man hesitated Joseph pressed his request, "I understand you're probably very busy but I know that you're on light duties for the rest of the day and I would appreciate any information you can give me."

Although Richard was still a trifle wary the elf's request was a reasonable one and he supposed he could spare a bit of time to give advice concerning Magritta.

"All right, I'm going to be splicing some ropes for the next hour so I suppose we can talk. Just try not to get in the way; the bosun won't tolerate anything that affects the running of this ship."

Joseph gave a dry smile that did not reach his eyes, "don't worry; he won't even know I'm there."

-AAA-

Atcher sat at the makeshift desk in his cabin, a length of parchment laid out before him. Dipping the quill into the inkpot he wiped away the excess ink on the rim of the pot and penned the final words of his report.

"...and I can only express my professional displeasure at these actions that have endangered both the cargo and the ship. I must recommend that an investigation be held into the man's fitness to hold command of this ship once she has completed her return voyage."

This done he signed the parchment and set it aside to allow the ink to dry. That should just about serve his purpose. Once the ship had put into port he intended to have this dispatched back to Marienburg with all possible haste. Using the correct channels should ensure that it reached its destination prior to anything that fool Varus might send. After that he need only execute the final stage of the plan. His father and uncle would have made the final arrangements by now and their 'colleagues' had already proved their reliability in undertaking such an operation. All that would then remain would be for him to oversee the final stage.

"And of course there may be some additional perks along the way."

-AAA-

Richard sat cross-legged on the forecastle, several coils of rope gathered beside him. He currently had the ends of two lengths spread across his lap and was busy splicing*** both with his marlinspike. Next to him Joseph slouched against the railing with half an eye on the ocean beyond the ship's prow. The wind had noticeably increased in strength and was whipping the seas into even larger white-crested waves. Joseph's long silvery hair was blown out wildly in all directions and both men were forced to talk in raised voices to make themselves heard. The rest of the forecastle was deserted, with the remaining men on deck either scrubbing the lower deck planks clean or labouring over various other tasks elsewhere in the ship.

"So you'd recommend avoiding the outer sections at night?"

"That's right mate, the people in that city are a pretty decent lot but there are lot of foreigners' about-traders and warships mainly. Most of them are decent enough but there's always the odd trouble-maker around. The city has a large garrison but the authorities have a pretty relaxed attitude. The laws aren't always enforced as strictly as they would be back in Marienburg and sometimes things can get out of hand."

"Well I'll certainly keep that in mind," Joseph studied the man's face carefully, trying to judge his mood. _Time to try another tack_. "I daresay everyone will be glad to get into port after what we've been through."

"They certainly will. It was bad enough for them finding a ghost ship, let alone having to undergo an attack from that beast. Somehow I don't think the passengers will feel inclined to sail with us any further on this voyage."

"Actually I understood that most of them would be getting off at Magritta anyway, they don't really fancy trying their luck with the Sartossan pirates."

"Probably, but when we put into Magritta there are usually a few people willing to pay for passage. Regardless of the danger it's still quicker than travelling overland. Once word of our good fortune gets around they'll probably think twice about picking us though."

"Hmph probably. Then again the serpent did withdraw after that piece of 'divine intervention'. If the captain plays his cards right that might be a potential selling point."

"You really believe the stories of divine intervention?"

Joseph feigned surprise, "you mean you don't."

Richard gave an idle shrug, "I can't really say; I was unconscious when it occurred."

"Yes I heard; you were rather fortunate that it occurred when it did. If that bolt of fire hadn't come from the stern cabin it might have made another lunge at you."

Richard nodded grimly, remembering the horrific sight of his shipmates being dragged down by that gaping maw. "I was lucky."

"And you didn't see anything that might indicate the cause of that blast?" He noticed the tension creep into the man's frame.

"No, as I said I was unconscious."

"I'm told that Bretonnian woman was nearby when it occurred, apparently after you were knocked out."

Richard's frame stiffened noticeably at these words and he twisted round to face the elf, "you sure ask a lot of questions Master Joseph."

Joseph kept his expression neutral, "I'm just curious, and I know that rumours are spreading around the ship, rumours of dark powers at work some say."

At these words the man jabbed the ropes more harshly than he had intended and muttered a curse as his marlinspike bent. Taking it between both fingers he stroked the length of metal and gently bent it back into shape. This done he resumed splicing.

Joseph's stern gaze deepened in intensity. A full minute passed before Richard became aware of this and a strange look spread across his face. "Is something wrong?"

Joseph was saved from having to answer by the sudden clang of the ship's bell. Without a word he moved away towards where the crew was now assembling. Richard watched him warily, laid the ropes aside and followed him down the steps.

-AAA-

"Thank you Louisa, I think I'll take the blue dress for tomorrow."

Louisa smiled as she withdrew the long garment from her mistresses' travelling case. Both women were looking forward to their arrival in port. Ellaine's young cousin Jane would now have been awaiting their arrival for two weeks and she knew that her mistress was anxious to get her young ward back to Bretonnia as soon as possible.

"Shall we be attending the funeral today mistress?"

"Yes, I think the crew would appreciate it. I know they've taken this matter to heart, about the crew of that old ship as well as their own dead."

"The master had a brother that served on the _Marienburg_ and I think the others feel for the loss of the brig just as we do when one of our own is lost. In a way they are bound together like...brothers or something similar."

"Hmm, I never knew you were so astute when it came to the ways of sailors Louisa."

"Oh...I've just been keeping my ear to the ground as the saying goes. It's surprising just how easy they are to talk to."

Ellaine smiled and raised an eyebrow almost imperceptibly, "would that be any sailors in particular?" She saw the red blush creep across her maid's face, "Louisa, I'm not blind as you well know. I have a fair idea where you've been going these last couple of evenings. I'd ask if there was anything clandestine going on but I do know you better than that." When Louisa failed to answer Ellaine tilted her head, "I'm only worried about you. Don't forget that we are a long way from our home and until we reach port there isn't anyone here whom we can really trust."

"I know mistress, I have been careful. But Richard seems like a decent man. Remember he helped us out back on...that night." She shuddered as the memory of Atcher's attempt upon her honour returned.

"I agree that we should be thankful to him for that, but we don't know him that well. Just because he helped us once does not give us sufficient reason to place our trust in him."

Louisa looked away. There was truth in what her mistress had said but at the same time she could not believe Richard to be capable of anything untrustworthy. Louisa might be young but she prided herself on being a good judge of character. Ever since she had been a child she had been able to gain an insight into a person's character simply by looking into their eyes. She had a good feeling about this man-mostly. He had a kind, honest face and there was no malice within him. Nonetheless there was something strange about him, almost like a grey cloud at the back of his mind that he wished to keep hidden.

"I suppose you are right mistress, I promise I'll be careful."

"That is all I ask," Ellaine glanced up as the ship's bell sounded, "we had better go up."

-AAA-

At the boatswain's command the top-men went scurrying into the rigging as the quartermaster spun the wheel to turn the ship into the wind. As she came round the topsails were furled, several more were slackened and the ship slowly came to a halt.

The ship's company had gathered around the starboard railing at the gap where stores were usually loaded. A large plank had been positioned atop a collection of blocks with one end stretching out over the edge. The company flag had been draped over the top, its jade griffon atop a black background symbolising their link to the merchant guild in Altdorf. Underneath it a small hump marked the position of one of the sacks containing a skeleton and a small lump iron.

Varus and Selby stood on the quarterdeck, the former holding his prayer book, presiding over the scene in a manner reminiscent of a priest. He glanced down as Ellaine and Louisa emerged from the hatchway, touching his hand to his hat in acknowledgement. Both women gave a polite curtsey in reply and moved to join the gathering. Glancing around at the assemblage Ellaine saw that everyone on board the ship had gathered to attend the funeral, with the exception of Atcher and his intimidating servant. That suited her just fine.

Louisa moved away from her and moved to stand beside Richard Armittage. The sailor gave her a smile as she approached before turning his attention back to the proceedings, occasionally directing a wary glance at Joseph. The elf stood at the tip of the left wing of the crowd, seemingly at pains to keep slightly apart from everyone else. Grunwald stood at the forefront of the crowd next to the master's mate Jonas. The passengers had grouped together closer to the centre of the crowd. Amongst them Ellaine could make out the mother, holding her child by the hand. The young girl waved when she saw her and Ellaine returned her smile.

_At least there's some happiness around here_.

-AAA-

It was a somber ceremony. Varus read out the relevant passages from his book, the ship's company would join in the final verse and two of the sailors would then tilt the nearer side of the plank up. With barely a sound the small sack underneath would slide out from under the flag, the splash announcing the start of its final descent towards the ocean floor where so many sailors had been laid to rest across the centuries.

Joseph had, at the captain's request, scrutinised the _Marienburg's_ log book intensely. Several skeletons had been named as a result, though most of them remained unidentified and had to be consigned to the depths as "a sailor of the _Marienburg"_. To compensate for this Varus read out the brig's entire crew list, naming each one who had been lost. When the final name had been read out the ship's company stood to attention as the bugler sounded the salute. After the final note was sounded the crew dispersed back to their stations.

Selby remained where he stood for a moment, gazing out over the side. With a final sigh he turned away and headed back to the wheel. Like the ship he was finally letting go.

-AAA-

TBC

-AAA-

OOC_-Author's Notes:_ * When a ship is becalmed it refers to a situation when there is insufficient wind to enable her to sail. She effectively becomes adrift and if the captain wished to move her with any speed his only option was to attach the ship's boats to the bows and have them pull the ship along. This did not achieve a great deal of speed but it did allow the ship to make some headway. In the age of sail it was not unknown for ships to be becalmed for weeks on end.

** Morr is the god of death and the ruler of the underworld. He guides the souls of the dead safely to his realm. He is also the god of dreams and is capable of weaving terrible illusions should he wish. He is a particular enemy of Necromancers who despoil the dead for their own purposes. (See the _Warhammer Fantasy Role-play_ rulebook published in 1995).

***To splice a rope refers to joining two pieces of rope by weaving the strands of each one into the other.

-And as always please read and review.

-AAA-


	11. Disembarking

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from composing this story. With that in mind I wish to acknowledge the book _Warhammer Fantasy Roleplay_, published in 1995. It is from this book that I have drawn upon for a description of the port of Magritta and its peoples-without a doubt an extremely informative book on the Warhammer world, if a little outdated in some areas.

Apologies for taking so long to post this latest update, I've had the draft ready for some time but only recently got round to writing this chapter.

-AAA-

Magritta, the most prominent port of the Estalian Kingdoms, was renowned throughout the Old World. Built into a natural harbour formed by the Bay of Quietitude, the anchorage was sheltered from the open ocean by the two great arms of the headland. The deep waters had made it a natural haven for passing vessels, for the long voyages from the Empire and Bretonnia to the shores of distant Araby and back again were fraught with peril and it was rare for any ship to pass by this port without stopping to replenish supplies and effect repairs. This was not always done voluntarily-centuries of trade had made the city extremely wealthy and its officials were not above ordering their navy to bring in so-called 'suspicious vessels' for an inspection lasting several days, subtly designed to make sure some of the vessel's goods would find their way into the local market. Protestations lodged by the more courageous masters were casually brushed aside.

Naturally this had provoked responses from other countries and there was never a shortage of potentially hostile opponents. The city states of Tilea and the Sultans of Araby had often gazed with covetous eyes upon the wealth of goods that flowed through the port on a daily basis and the pirates of Sartosa were a constant threat to all shipping. The Estallians remained unconcerned, for their powerful navy was a potent deterrent to anyone foolish enough to attempt to encroach upon their trading rights. In order to counter these ever-present threats the port officials were careful to maintain their fleet at maximum strength, frequently hiring ships from the Empire and other northern countries to fight alongside their own vessels. It was this mighty fighting force that had protected the city for so long and had prevented the pirates of Sartosa from completely overrunning the Southern Sea.

Of course such thoughts were not present in the minds of those aboard the _Vulture_. After all they been through in the last week the men and women on board the old ship were simply rejoicing at the sight of land. Most were now thinking of either a nice warm bath or a hot meal, and the crew in particular was planning to hit the taverns as soon as they had disembarked, intent upon finding a release from the tensions that had built up during the voyage.

-AAA-

The entrance to the port was guarded by a pair of mighty fortresses, one on each headland. Near identical in design, they were an impressive sight. The passengers gathered on the deck, gazing in awe at the formidable structures. Built out of dark grey stone that had been quarried and transported from many miles inland, the outer curtain walls of each fort was laid out in a rectangular design, set at a ninety degree angle to the harbour entrance. Their defensive capabilities had been further enhanced by building the right hand fortress in a way that situated it slightly forward of the left one, a move which meant that any enemy vessel attempting to breach the harbour would end up being caught in a deadly crossfire between both forts.

The two large beacons that served as a guide to approaching ships during the night rose up on large circular towers, each connected to their corresponding fort by a fortified wall overlooked by high ramparts.

Wooden structures jutted out along the top of the walls, providing firing platforms for archers. Each corner was protected by a large circular tower, with another six smaller towers projecting from various points along the walls. Glancing at the right hand fort through his spy-glass, Joseph recognised the compact form of a large _ballista _situatedatop the foremost tower, and he guessed that the remaining towers also contained identical weapons*. The gatehouse, the fort's only entrance and therefore its weakest point, was protected by two large flanking towers overlooking the great drawbridge that currently hung down over a deep ditch surrounding the fort. Behind the first wall the Estallians had constructed a second curtain wall, its higher sides allowing the defenders to lay down a second wave of fire at approaching attackers. Like the first wall this one boasted a circular tower at each of its four corners with another four at various positions although these inner towers were slightly smaller, shielded as they were from enemy fire by the outer wall. Their main purpose was to provide supporting fire to the outer wall and, in the event of the outer wall being breached, to allow the defenders to catch the attackers in a further cross-fire. Judging by the position of the two towers behind the gatehouse Joseph guessed that an inner passage connected the two walls at the gatehouse, a design that would allow attackers to be funneled into a confined killing zone where the defenders could throw down missiles from all directions. The box-shaped Keep, the fort's final line of defence, towered above everything else. In the event of both walls being lost this would be where the garrison would retreat to await reinforcements-or defeat. If the wall towers were anything to go by it seemed reasonable to assume that the Keep mounted some additional _ballista_ of its own.

The natural defences that were provided by the headland had been strengthened considerably by carefully cutting away the surrounding banks, turning them into a series of sheer rocky cliffs to ensure that each fort could only be accessed by a narrow pathway that led towards the city. As a final measure a small guardhouse had been constructed some twenty metres away from the gatehouse. Any visitor wishing to enter the fort first had to pass an inspection by the guardhouse sentries, their presence intended as an additional barrier against a surprise attack.

_Impressive, though the cut of the stone does leave something to be desired_. For a moment the elf's mind drifted back to the ancient ruins he has seen scattered across the empire-the finely crafted towers of gray or white stone, now overgrown by ivy and partially ruined by the elements. Even so the cut of that stone had been so fine that one could almost believe they had been carved from wood and painted over to look like stone. Whatever civilization had carved them had certainly known how to turn a tool of war into a thing of beauty. As he moved over to the port side to inspect the second fort he observed that a launch was already pulling out to meet them, the men at its oars making swift progress through the waves. Once within range a figure stood up in the bows, cupped his hands to his lips and issued a challenge, "what ship?"

Out in the bows Grunwald cupped his own hands and bellowed a reply, "_Vulture_, from Marienburg bound for Magritta. We need urgent repairs."

"Follow us in, and keep to our course" the figure sat back down and the men on the port side of the launch raised their oars clear of the waves as those on the starboard side paddled rapidly to spin their little boat around. Executing the manoeuvre flawlessly the sailors quickly resumed their rapid strokes as the _Vulture _shortened sail in preparation to enter the harbour.

At a signal from the launch the two heavy iron chains that stretched out across the harbor entrance were lowered beneath the water and the launch darted past, the merchantman following her through into the sheltered waters of the bay. Everyone aboard heaved a collective sigh of relief as the _Vulture _eased past the first fort and the chains were raised once again, effectively sealing the bay off to the outside world. For now at least they were safe.

-AAA-

It was a common belief amongst those who had never visited the port that it had only one jetty. This was not strictly true for, as the passengers saw once their ship had cleared the headland, each fort possessed its own fortified pier, both of them cut off from the headland by a strong connecting wall. Should an enemy ever succeed in cutting the forts off from the city itself it would still be possible to reinforce and supply them as long as control of the harbour was maintained. The left-hand pier was currently occupied by a brigantine from whose gaff the Estallian flag hung limply. Through his spy glass Joseph observed a rider galloping away from the right hand fort in the direction of the port, most likely a soldier dispatched by the fort commander to inform the port officials of their arrival. He wondered how much interest their arrival would now be generating within the city.

Further up in the bows Ragnar leaned out over the rail, his gaze fixed on the launch. Apparently satisfied with the newcomers identity her duty had switched from that of guard boat to pilot. It would now be her task to guide the _Vulture _safely through the anchored ships and sand banks to a designated anchoring point. This done the launch would quit her charge and return to the forts, doubtless glad to be rid of the newcomer. Ragnar did not blame such feelings, for only seven years previously he had been in a similar position. After been paid off from his last ship, a rotting old merchant vessel named _Rorek_, he had found employment as a pilot on the Altdorf docks, using his knowledge of the harbour to guide the ships to safe anchoring sites. It had been a decent living, but only eight months into the job he had been forcibly laid off after a ship he was leading through the harbour ran onto a sandbank and badly damaged her keel.

He had not been at fault, but the harbour authorities had felt otherwise. Two weeks later he had learnt that the ship's captain had received a handsome sum of money from his insurance company. Judging by the state of his vessel before she had hit the sandbank it had not taken a genius to put two and two together. Ragnar had heard tales of captains who deliberately ran their vessels onto sandbanks and then blamed it on pilot error in order to claim the insurance, but he had never thought it would happen to him. It was incidents like that which caused all pilots to regard new ships with deep suspicion.

They passed a number of ships currently anchored in the bay, ranging from Arabian trading vessels to Estallian warships, from sleek hulled brigs to squat, round carracks, each one moored at a respectable distance from the other. Finally the launch led them into a wide open stretch of water. At her signal the _Vulture _hove to, the sailors ran to man the capstan and with the clanking of metal on metal the anchors were dropped. The topmen scampered across the yards to haul in the last remaining squares of canvas and the old ship eased to a stop. Her duty done, the launch turned and headed back to the bay entrance.

-AAA-

With the ship now at anchor an air of restlessness seemed to creep into her company and the passengers in particular became eager to disembark. Varus, however, had to calm their enthusiasm.

"I am afraid that we must wait for one of the port officials to report aboard and assess our intentions. No one may leave the ship until then," he waved aside their protests, "I understand your wish to leave but there are procedures to be followed. No one leaves the ship until I say, and anyone who tries will be restrained by force if necessary." He turned to the mate, "Mr. Selby you will remain on deck, I want to be notified of any new developments immediately. Mr. Grunwald, report to my cabin in ten minutes with the warrant officers." Ignoring the protests of several passengers the captain turned on his heel and disappeared down the hatchway.

-AAA-

"Gentlemen," the captain leaned forward on his desk, chin resting loosely on his hands, "based on Mr. Kennet's report it seems likely we are going to be here for at least three days and only then if the port officials prove co-operative."

Kennet the carpenter, a short thin man in his mid-thirties, nodded in affirmation. Like most sailors the man's jet black hair had been cropped short and his chin bore several days stubble that helped to conceal the jagged scar on his lower jaw, a memento of a tavern brawl several years back.

"Trade talks best in this port captain. They are an easy-going bunch but I think we'll have to pay them extra to get a speedy job done."

Peck grimaced visibly, "It don't matter if it's the Empire, Bretonnia or Estallia, all ship-yards are the same."

The others hid their grins. Peck was a purser to the core and disliked spending anything beyond what was strictly necessary. The cost of these repairs would certainly not please him.

"Be that as it may, we need only rig temporary repairs to seal the stern off. Once we reach Magritta the repairs can be done in full. Meanwhile I want each one of you to draw up a list of the spares and provisions that we require. Make sure we have enough to last the rest of our trip and present the reports to the harbour master, assuming it's still the same man as when I last came here we can be sure of some decent materials. I expect one of the port officials will be heading for us by now so you'd all better make a start." He gave a curt gesture and the three men-Peck, Kennet and the ship's cooper Harris-got up and filed out of the cabin.

Grunwald leaned casually against the cabin wall, "is something troubling you sir?"

"Yes, I take it that you've sensed the mood of the crew."

"Aye sir, they've been spooked by those events with the _Marienburg_, the younger ones in particular are still very jumpy."

"I guessed as much, but I'm afraid that we are going to have to restrict shore leave for now. I'll leave the details in your hands Archie, but until I order otherwise the crew are all confined to the ship, only release those you can trust, no exceptions. It won't go down well with the men but right now we can't take any chances."

Grunwald nodded in agreement. In their present state the risk of desertion was simply too great. After all that had happened he would not be surprised if some members of the crew were to take a stroll on shore and fail to return. "While we are here would you like me to put the word out that we are looking to recruit some marines?"

"Yes, I think we are going to need some muscle if we run into trouble on leaving the harbour. Be careful though, no one of ill repute."

"Aye sir." Grunwald rolled his eyes as he left the cabin. _No one of ill repute, who else does he think I'm going to find selling their swords around here? _

-AAA-

"Deck there!" the lookout's voice rang down from the main topmast, "cutter approaching from the harbour."

Selby raised his spy glass. Squinting against the sun's glare he could just make out the glowing white shapes of the city harbour and the houses that lined its boundaries. The _Vulture _was currently anchored about a mile distant from this shimmering rock garden-as a new arrival she would not be permitted to approach closer until a full inspection was carried out. Despite his use of the spy-glass Selby could not see the cutter, its tiny form still hidden from view amidst the forest of ships lying at anchor.

_Must be the port official, they're being a lot quicker than usual_. He motioned to Sinjun who was sitting by the quarterdeck railing splicing a length of rope.

"Inform the captain that we expect the port official will be aboard within ten minutes. Mr. Ragnar, have the crew fall in, I want this ship fully presentable by the time that cutter gets here."

The ship's bell had begun to sound before Sinjun had time to disappear down the hatchway.

-AAA-

The port official boarded the ship twenty minutes later. A tall, thin man with the characteristic dark brown skin and black hair of the Estallians, he received the deck party's formal greeting and retired below decks to discuss business with Varus.

When the man emerged an hour later Selby could not fail to notice his broad grin as he descended the steps built into the ship's side and jumped down into the waiting cutter. Somehow he doubted the captain would be feeling so jovial right now.

At that moment a sudden wave swung the cutter away from the _Vulture_ and those watching gasped in alarm, fearing that the official might fall into this newly formed gap. Fortunately for him the cutter's tiller-man had anticipated this. Reaching out he grabbed the official by the arm and hauled him inboard. To everyone's surprise neither man fell, but kept their footing with practised ease and settled down into their respective positions.

As the cutter pushed away from the merchantman's towering side Varus emerged from below decks. He was wearing his favourate tri-corn hat and blue boat cloak, for the wind was proving unusually cold in spite of the bay's sheltered waters.

"That man seemed rather pleased sir?" Selby looked up from where he stood by the wheel.

"Yes, he has agreed to provide full assistance with all the repairs we require, he even said he would make sure everything was attended to immediately." The captain moved to stand by the railing, his gaze roaming over the various ships at anchor. "Kindly pass the word to have the warrant officers go ashore with our lists of spares. You may also tell the passengers that they can prepare for disembarkation once our own parties are ashore."

"Aye sir. Will you be going ashore today?"

"Yes immediately. If you have anything you wish to send Mr. Selby then notify the boatswain. And inform the passengers that they are now free to disembark. I'll leave it to you to make the arrangements."

"Aye sir, "Selby paused momentarily, "the landlubbers are being rather more...co-operative than usual by the sounds of it." Co-operative was not really the right word. As a rule the Estallians were always quick to assist any damaged ships that came to their ports. They just tended to...move a little slower if the ship involved was a merchantman, in the hopes that some of the newcomers cargo might end up being traded on their own markets. Selby had been to Magritta several times and such speedy assistance was the last thing he had been expecting.

"I have informed him of the cargo we procured from the _Marienburg, _and I promised to discuss salvage rights with the governor."

He did not have to say anything more, Selby could guess the rest. In return for speedy repairs the Estallians were probably expecting to receive a share of this valuable cargo. Exactly how much Varus would be able to hold onto remained to be seen.

-AAA-

It was almost noon when the jolly boat, the smaller of the _Vulture's _two boats, bobbed gently to a stop by the quayside. Without a word two sailors leapt ashore with ropes in hand. Scarce seconds had passed before the boat was secured to the quay by a pair of iron rings. The small group of passengers quickly left their seats and climbed the stone steps. Leaving one sailor behind to mind the boat Peck and Kennet, their lists of spares in hand and the remaining three crewmen in tow, left in search of the harbour master.

Atcher who, after much arguing with the captain, had managed to get a place in the jolly boat, made his way to the end of the quay and took a path that led him clear of the docks. After pausing to get his bearings the nobleman set off in a westerly direction. His course took him down a series of main roads towards the area of the city that housed the wealthier inhabitants.

After half an hour's walk he arrived at his destination, a white-washed three-storied house surrounded by a sizable garden contained within a large wall. He was stopped at the gates by a pair of tall footmen.

"Go and tell your master that James Atcher requests an audience, and be quick about it."

One of the footmen shouldered his tall pole-axe and entered the grounds through a side-gate. His comrade remained at his post, eyes fixed ahead and hands resting on the hilt of his fearsome weapon. Although the man's gaze did not waver Atcher could not shake the feeling that he was being watched by other eyes and he looked around nervously.

The footman returned in less than ten minutes.

"My master will see you now sir."

With some relief the young nobleman followed him through the side door and up a slate pathway to the house.

-AAA-

The _Vulture's _cutter pulled up at the quay some twenty minutes later, heavily laden with passengers and their luggage. In keeping with tradition Varus, as the captain, was the first out of the boat once it was safely secured. Ascending the stairs quickly with his clerk at his heels, he hastily made his way towards a section of the harbour where carts of various sizes could be seen awaiting passengers.

Ellaine accepted a sailor's hand, hitched up her skirt and jumped ashore, fighting to keep her balance. The first few minutes ashore were always difficult-after so many months spent at sea it felt as though the ground was shaking under her feet. Louisa was next, followed quickly by Joseph. Ignoring the proffered hand the elf shouldered his sling bag and jumped ashore, landing smoothly and leaping up the steps without a pause. If his legs felt unsteady he did not show it. Ellaine noticed that in addition to his sword he now had a finely carved bow and quiver hung over one shoulder.

She watched him leave for a moment before turning her attention back to the cutter as their luggage was hauled ashore, followed by the chests belonging to the young girl and her mother who had ridden with them in the boat. This done the last of the luggage, which belonged to two of the traders who had been travelling on board, was manhandled onto the quay. Grunting with the effort the cutter's crewmen transferred the passenger's clothes chests to the end of the quay before returning to their craft and heading back towards the ship to pick up the remaining passengers.

The disembarked passengers hailed one of the nearby carriages. After finding some dockyard workers to help with the luggage the women boarded the carriage and headed away from the docks. Sitting opposite the girl, Ellaine watched the port disappear from view as their carriage turned a corner.

_I suppose that's it then_.

-AAA-

TBC.

* OOC: The _ballista_, or bolt-thrower, was a large crossbow used against defenders in siege warfare. Like the one mounted on the _Vulture_ it could fire bolts made of metal (as opposed to just metal-tipped). If heated to high temperatures these became excellent anti-ship weapons-a smoking bolt lodged in a ship's timers would quickly set the ship alight if it was not doused quickly, much like the heated shot fired by cannons against wooden-walled ships from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

-AAA-


	12. Attending to Buisness

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. And as always please read and review.

-AAA-

Captain Varus stood at the great window outside the doors to the governors meeting room, his hands linked behind his back and his gaze roaming over the various ships currently at anchor. He could not deny that this position afforded a splendid view of the bay, lit as it was by the mid-afternoon sunlight and with a gentle breeze playing across its sheltered waters. Judging by the position of the harbour from where he stood Varus guessed that he was currently standing somewhere in the east wing of the building. His clerk Spillane sat on the pine bench further down the corridor and was currently pouring over the collection of papers he had brought ashore.

Right now both men were struggling to keep their irritation under control. It had now been a good two hours since they had arrived at the governor's residence-a large three storied building boasting elaborate ornamentation on both the stonework and the heavy iron doors. The building had been white-washed and, unlike most of the dwellings in the city, had somehow maintained the glow that only a fresh coat of paint can bestow. They had been escorted past the armed sentries, up two flights of steps and along a series of corridors until they had come to a large pair of black doors mounted with polished brass ornaments. Their escorting footman had taken his report and entered through the great doors, announced their presence to the room's occupant and taken his leave. Since then they had been left to wait in the corridor.

_You can turn up whenever you wish, and yet whether you're early or late they always keep you waiting!_

His thoughts were interrupted as, with a soft click, the doors opened and a footman dressed in white breeches and a red jacket emerged, stepping aside to allow a man of medium height who wore rich clothes of red and black silk to exit the room. Judging by the man's expression it seemed that his interview with governor had not gone well. Without a glance at Varus or Spillane he took off quickly down the corridor and disappeared down the stairway.

"His lordship the governor will see you now sir," the footman motioned for Varus to enter. With an inward sigh of relief he moved away from the window. Spillane remained where he sat, watching as the doors swung closed behind his captain.

-AAA-

The room was large and elaborately furnished, as one would expect of a man of such status. From the rich silk tapestries adorning the walls to the pine table at the centre, the entire room served as a reminder of the wealth that daily flowed through this port. The head man himself was currently seated at a large table to the left of the main doors. As Varus entered the man rose smoothly from his seat and offered his hand.

"Ah Captain Varus, please take a seat. I apologise for keeping you waiting-matters of state you understand."

The handshake, like his tone, was dry. John Morcambe was not what one would expect of a port official. In contrast to the many that had tended to grow fat upon the fruits of their office, Morcambe had retained his lean build. Though now over sixty years of age his long dark hair was only just beginning to grey and his stern face bore very few signs of ageing. But it was the man's eyes that most displayed his defiance of the passage of time, the deep brown orbs radiating a keen hawk-like stare that made one feel as though he were gazing straight into their soul.

It was upon Morcambe's shoulders that the security of the port and, by extension, that of the entire surrounding territory depended. Although a governor in title his power was more akin to that of a king. The geographical position of the Estallian Kingdoms, lying on the south-western border of the kingdom of Bretonnia, had kept them relatively sheltered from the Chaos incursions and the many green skin hordes that had plagued their northern neighbours. Allied to this was the fact that in their history the kingdoms had yielded few inspirational leaders of the calibre of Sigmar and Gilles le Bretton. Thus the Estallian peoples had never had the chance to unite into one nation as the Empire and Bretonnia had and they had remained divided into a collection of independent kingdoms. As the governor Morcambe was the effective ruler of this one.*

Varus knew little about him except that he had held the position for the last twenty two years and that he had been responsible in no small way for the Magrittans current prosperity. As one of the wealthiest kingdoms Magritta never wanted for enemies, be they from the neighbouring kingdoms or the lands of Araby. Under Morcambe the navy had gradually increased in size, replacing many of its older vessels with modern fighting ships. Trade links had been forged with the northern kingdoms, enabling Magritta to call upon their warships in times of dire peril. The kingdom's army had also been strengthened and its fortifications, like the two headland forts, modified to bring them into line with the demands of modern warfare. Thanks to him Magritta now sat secure in her position as the prime Estalian trading port and a military power strong enough to hold back the pirate plague that had long dogged the Southern Sea, although the pirates had so far proved too numerous for their one navy to eradicate.

"Would you care for a drink?" he gestured and a footman poured two small glasses from a nearby decanter. Varus took a small sip, wincing as the spirit burnt his throat.

"Thank you my lord."

"Oh my pleasure captain I assure you. My bailiff tells me that your ship has been damaged on the way here. Nothing too serious I hope."

"We have extensive damage to the stern windows; my ship will require temporary repairs before she can be considered sea-worthy."

"Is she in any danger?"

"The hull appears to be sound, although I would like to get it inspected tomorrow. I have an unpleasant feeling the copper sheathing may have suffered damage when we were attacked."

"Indeed, your report was very thorough as always captain. It seems that you were very fortunate that the …'fireball' occurred when it did."

"Indeed we were, had we sustained much more damage I fear that my command would now be on the bottom of the ocean."

"Fortunate indeed," the governor paused for a moment before continuing, "tell me captain, I am curious to know if you have been able to discover the cause of that blast."

"I am afraid not."

"And do you suspect divine intervention or perhaps something more…earthly in origin?"

Varus froze at this new suggestion, "really sir, you know the Empire's rules concerning such people. If one of those dark wizards had taken passage on my ship I assure you that I would know about it!" For a moment his polite tone slipped, replaced by one closer to indignation.

Morcambe hid a smile-such attitudes were typical of these superstitious northerners. They had their uses but on the whole were too prone to giving into hysteria where such matters as this were concerned. The Empire in particular held a very severe view when it came to the practice of the magical arts, all too often rooting out those who dabbled in them and burning them at the stake. Such attitudes held little favour amongst the Estallians who tended to view such practices as a useful tool, albeit one that had to be handled with caution and carefully monitored. Consequently many 'hedge-wizards' had fled south in an effort to find shelter amongst the Estallians and Arabians. Officially Estallia had discouraged this to avoid angering the Empire, but in practice many officials turned a blind eye in exchange for the services of such wizards.

At first the governor had wondered if Varus might have been harbouring one such person on board whom he might wish to hand over, but the man's reaction suggested otherwise. There was no point in pursuing that line of enquiry, so he simply gave a disinterested shrug, "then I suggest that you be grateful for small miracles captain. Now tell me, how severe is the damage to your stern gallery?"

"We have managed to rig up a temporary screen over the damaged sections and hopefully it will not prove to be too much of a problem, but if we run into rough seas then I fear she may be at risk of flooding."

The governor took a sip from his glass. "Well you will find that we are well prepared for all such emergencies here. I hope your men will take the time to avail themselves of the services we offer."

"I'm sure they will, we have been at sea for several months now and we need to replenish our stores."

"Splendid, then it will be a pleasure to assist you with your present difficulties. I understand that the last few days have been rather trying for you." He shook his head grimly, "to think that a simple _salvage_ operation could turn into such a catastrophe."

Varus could not fail to catch the emphasis placed on the world 'salvage'. _Well this man doesn't beat around the bush, I was wondering when we would get round to that topic._

As his encounter with the _Marienburg_ had taken place so far out to sea the Magrittans had no legal claim on the salvaged cargo. However salvage laws demanded that such matters were settled by the officials of the nearest port, and the officials of Magritta were acknowledged as being more honest than most others. It was this knowledge that had influenced his decision to inform the Magrittan official about the _Marienburg_ when he had arrived on board the _Vulture_ after their arrival. Here at least he could be assured of a fair settlement, and if the promise of a share in the cargo served to assist their repairs then so much the better.

"It was most unfortunate; we had enjoyed such a peaceful passage up till then."

"Indeed," the governor took another sip from his glass, "I have been informed that you have some business to settle with me, something about a claim pertaining to salvage rights perhaps?"

-AAA-

The carriage pulled up outside a two-story house in the merchant's quarter. Ellaine stepped down elegantly and went swiftly to the front door. Taking hold of the brass door knocker she rapped solidly several times and waited for an answer. Behind her came Louisa's sharp voice as she supervised the unloading of their luggage, directing the coachman and footman like a hospital matron would direct her charges. When it came to her mistress's possessions the young maid could display a more commanding presence than any knight she had known. With a final heave the last trunk was set down, the coachman and footman, the last of their passengers having now been taken to their destination, climbed back into their seats and headed back to the docks.

The door was answered by a plump middle-aged woman dressed in a pale green dress. Her grey hair was tied back into a tight bun and her face was set in a prim, rather stern expression. She squinted curiously at the newcomers and her expression abruptly broke into a wide smile. "Ellaine, I was beginning to think you would never come!"

"Hello Jane, I'm sorry we're late-the voyage took longer than I expected."

"Tsk, and when I think of the two of you travelling alone and unescorted, I've told you before that you can't trust the riff-raff that crew those boats."

"You needn't have worried, we didn't have any trouble." The lie came easily to her lips, Jane had always distrusted travel by sea and strongly disapproved of women travelling long distances unescorted; it would do no good to tell her anything about their recent escapades. The events of the past few days were behind them now. "I've been looking forward to seeing you; I trust that Belle is in good health."

Jane's face suddenly turned grave. "I think you had better come in, there are some things you need to hear. I'll have my servants take your belongings up to your rooms."

Ellaine felt a shiver of apprehension run down her spine as she followed her friend through the door.

-AAA-

The tavern door creaked open, momentarily illuminating the shady interior. Just as quickly as it had come the light vanished as the newcomer released his hold on the door and strode towards the bar. His face remained pointing squarely at the bar but under the shelter of his hat the newcomer's eyes darted back and forth, scanning the room and its occupants. Detecting no sign of a threat he strode across to the far end of the room, grimacing slightly at the musty smell the now assaulted his nostrils. The bar ran along the left-hand side of the room, with two medium-sized alcoves at either end. The newcomer turned and halted at the far end of the bar, a position that would afford him a clear view of both room and doorway. Bitter experience had long ago taught him the value of minding one's surroundings at all times.

Satisfied, Joseph drew his dagger, stuck it into the woodwork and coolly met the bartender's gaze.

"One pint of ale."

"Coming right up sir," the man reached underneath the bar to produce a rather grimy tankard, spitting into it before proceeding to wipe off some of the grease, much to Joseph's disgust.

As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting the elf scanned the bar-room's interior, taking in the various characters currently seated at the tables. There were more than two dozen tables lining the room, ranging in size from simple circular shapes fixed to the tops of barrels to a couple of large rectangular constructions against the far wall. The floor itself was covered with wood shavings and the coatings of what looked like some kind of nuts. He had seen this practice used in many taverns, the sprinklings acting as a sponge in the event of a spillage and making sweeping up easier when the place had closed for the night. The windows themselves were heavily coated in dust and he guessed that this had been deliberately applied to enhance the bar's dim interior.

It being midday the place was not particularly busy. Five burly men, dockyard workers by the look of them, sat in the far corner at one of the rectangular tables, each man holding a set of cards in their hands and with a pile of money in front of them. Another three men wearing the garb of sailors sat some two table's distant nursing tankards of ale and a further two sat at the back of the room playing cards. Two more sailors were sitting at a table located at the centre of the room and the final two occupants sat opposite him at the other end of the bar, their hooded cloaks drawn up over their heads. In spite of the dim light he could discern their features fairly well. One of the men had the dark chocolate skin of an Estallian; whilst the other's paler complexion was suggestive of someone from the northern kingdoms. Both men looked away quickly when their gazes met his.

The barman placed a tankard in front of him and Joseph pushed two copper coins over the counter. He stared down at the pale brown liquid, having no desire to feel the bitter taste in his mouth but knowing the importance of maintaining his pretence of being just a passing traveler. Taking the tankard the elf took a small sip, grimacing slightly as the liquid rolled over his tongue.

_Weak taste, this guy must water his ale right down._

Across the bar one of the two men got up and began moving towards him. Slowly Joseph pulled his long-bladed dagger from the bar and laid it upon the woodwork.

-AAA-

"She did what!" Ellaine struggled to regain her composure after the shocking news she had just heard.

"I'm afraid so, she has been gone for nearly a month."

"But why? Jane, please tell me everything."

"Two weeks after her arrival a messenger came to our door. He had a note to be delivered only to Belle. The poor dear was over the moon, she knew it had to be from Gerard," Jane leaned back in her chair with a sigh, "unfortunately it was not the happy news we had hoped for. It came from one of Gerard's men and was dated to seven days earlier; they must have used a fast cutter to send it. Gerard had apparently contracted a fever shortly after she left. At the time of writing he was gravely ill and was showing no signs of improvement. The poor girl took it very badly; I swear she nearly fainted on the spot with shock."

Ellaine's expression softened, "that would explain this I suppose, but how could you let her leave? You know she's courting danger by going back."

"I know that Ellaine, I told her as much myself and I thought I had made her understand," she lowered her head, "now I know I was wrong, but it's too late. I still don't know how but she got away during the night and I didn't realize this until the next morning. I immediately made enquiries and found out that she had managed to get passage on a ship back to Miraglianno that very night."

"Then it seems she thought this through carefully, doubtless to prevent you from stopping her. Has there been any word since she left?"

"None, I have sent a message but it takes time to get word between the two cities. Even if she did receive my message and reply to it, it is possible that her reply is still in transit."

"Indeed," now Ellaine stood up and began to pace back and forth, her agitation clear to the other two women.

"I'm so sorry, I should have realised that this might happen."

"Oh Jane it's not your fault if Belle's decided to run back to her lover, but she's asking for trouble by doing so. Her family will be on the lookout and it will be hard to keep a secret from them in their home town. They've probably got spies everywhere."

"You don't think she's run into trouble do you?"

"I don't know."

"But mistress," Louisa spoke for the first time, "that means she could be in grave danger, what are we going to do now?"

"I don't know Louisa, in all truth I just don't know."

-AAA-

"Then the matter is settled. I will send some officials aboard your ship tomorrow to ascertain the full value of the cargo. The court will be held the next day and given what you have told me I am sure it will be a mere formality to award you salvage rights."

Varus nodded his appreciation. "I am thankful sir."

"Not at all captain, we in Estallia are always keen maintain good relations with our northern neighbours. I trust that you will find our dockyards as hospitable as ever."

"I'm sure they will."

The governor glanced idly at the clock on the wall, got up from his chair and pulled a bell-rope hanging by the door. "Well I am afraid I will have to end this interview captain, there is much I must attend to and little time to do so. Now before you go is there anything else you wish to discuss."

"No, I believe we have covered all our business matters."

"Very good," the door opened and the footman from earlier entered, "have your clerk give his lists to Marcus when you leave. He will make sure that your needs are attended to."

Varus retrieved his hat and followed the footman through the door. His eyes briefly meeting those of the next person requesting an audience with the governor, a small bespectacled man in his late forties, dressed in black velvet. The newcomer regarded him coolly as he passed before turning his attention to the office doorway.

-AAA-

Joseph did not look up from his drink as the man pulled up a stool beside him. Through the corner of his eye Joseph caught a glimpse of a thin swarthy face, the beginnings of a black beard and a dark line of string that held a cloth patch in place over the left eye. For several minutes both men sat nursing their drinks before the stranger broke the silence.

"Your late," his voice was deep and harsh.

"No time was specified," Joseph retrieved and re-sheathed his dagger.

"Even allowing for the usual delays you were expected four days ago. You should know that Mr. Damar does not like to be kept waiting."

"Your employer knows that delays on voyages are unavoidable and that I did not agree an exact date. It was not easy getting this so I advise you to mind you tongue and be grateful I bothered to show up at all."

The man's hand twitched noticeably but he bit back an angry retort. A short pause followed as a quartet of sailors entered the cabin and ordered drinks before retiring to two of the room's central tables. Once they were satisfied that no-one was listening the two resumed their conversation.

"So you have it."

"Yes." The man held out his hand expectantly. "Not so fast, first you show me the money."

"You don't trust me stranger," One-eye managed to affect a rather convincing offended tone.

"No."

One-eye reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a leather purse which he then laid down on the bar. Taking the purse Joseph emptied the contents and counted out the gold and silver coins inside, ignoring the glances from the bartender and some of the other customers in the room. After counting the coins and testing the weight of each one he withdrew his dagger and slashed a dozen at random.

One's eye's gaze narrowed, "you insult me by counting it in front of me!"

"You don't like it then go and complain to your master." He had been double-crossed too many times in the past to risk leaving anything to chance. Finally satisfied that he was not being cheated Joseph reached into the folds of his own scaled cloak and produced a small leather pouch about the size of man's fist. One-eye took the pouch and placed it safely under his own cloak.

"May I venture some advice stranger?"

"If you must."

"Don't leave town, we may need to see you again."

When Joseph made no reply one-eye got up and returned to his colleague. After a short exchange the two men got up and exited the tavern.

Joseph watched them go. _Well now, what should I do next?_

Off to his right the sailors who had just entered were having a minor disagreement with the two sailors seated in the centre of the room, one of whom Joseph now recognised as Kennet, the _Vulture's _carpenter. From what he could discern it seemed that two of the newcomers had a previous acquaintance with Kennet's ship-mate. It had not been a good one by the sound of it because both men were growing increasingly aggressive, their voices becoming louder and more abusive as the argument developed. Kennet seemed to be attempting to keep the peace, his attempts becoming increasingly angry as the other sailors behaviour continued to deteriorate.

Suddenly, without warning, one of them grabbed a nearby bottle and swung it at the carpenter. There was a sound of breaking glass and Kennet staggered back against the table.

"You keep your bloody nose out of this you bastard!"

_Hmm, _Joseph rubbed his chin, _the usual brand of __entertainment I see_.

-AAA-

OOC: * This information was gathered from the 1995 edition of _Warhammer Fantasy Role-play_.

-AAA-


	13. Set Plans in Motion

Disclaimer; I do not own Warhammer or any of the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. And as always, everyone please read and review.

OOC: Pacificuser-thanks for the reviews. Comments are much appreciated. I used to read those books when I was younger. I haven't read one in a while but they are still some of my favourites, and very inspirational for naval battles-who knows, we might even see one of those before the story finishes.

OOC: Over eight thousand words-this is the longest chapter I have ever written so far.

-AAA-

Two days later found the mid afternoon producing a full sun and a clear blue sky, bathing the docks in its light. Seagulls perched lazily along the quayside, preening their feathers and occasionally diving into the harbour waters in pursuit of a passing fish. They paid very little attention to the dockyard workers who bustled about their business, many of whom were stripped down to their waist and perspiring heavily in the sweltering heat.

Harris lounged lazily back against a stack of barrels, a clay pipe clenched between his teeth. He inhaled deeply and blew the resulting cloud into the air with a satisfied sigh, watching the smoke dissipate in the gentle breeze, his attention switching briefly to the edge of the dock as a large black rat scuttled into view from between a pair of crates. The creature reared up on its hind legs and eyed him furtively, before scurrying out towards a piece of bread that had been dropped by a sailor. Snatching it up the rodent looked around again and darted back towards the crates.

Harris watched as a dark shape detached itself from the top of the nearest crate and dropped rapidly toward the scuttling form. With a flash of fur and claws the air was suddenly rent by a piercing scream, causing nearby gulls to take to the air. Abruptly the struggle ended as quickly as it had begun. The black cat picked up its victim by the scruff of the neck and crept away to the shelter of the crates to enjoy its meal in peace.

_Damn rats, too many about these days_.

His gaze drifted out towards the _Vulture_. With the last of the passenger's now disembarked she had been brought further inland the previous afternoon and was now lying about ten cables distant. Right now the ship was being heeled over onto her port side to expose part of her keel to the daylight. Sailors and dockyard workers were currently at work on the exposed section, scraping away with various tools to remove the long-clinging weed and to inspect the damage that had been done during the sea serpent's attack. Repair work had begun on the stern the previous day and was still continuing, with timbers and canvas currently being fastened into place to create a temporary plug for the opening. Now if things only went as the captain expected they should be on their way within another two to three days, for Harris knew that he was eager to resume the voyage.

His attention was drawn momentarily to the sound of raised voices. Raising himself from his sitting position the cooper craned his neck round and caught sight of Grunwald locked in a heated argument with three men, mercenaries judging by the cut of their dress. Harris allowed himself a smile-trying to hire experienced marines was proving more difficult than originally anticipated. Attacks by pirates had increased during the past few months, leading to a shortage of experienced fighters. He knew that more would come to the port as word spread of the greater demand but that would be of little help to them now. Grunwald's demands were not helping either-he had to hand it to the boatswain, the man had high standards and was an excellent judge of character to boot. If a mercenary did not meet his standards then he would not allow them aboard.

Unfortunately this had meant that fully two thirds of the marines who had answered their recruitment call had been turned away. At this rate they would be lucky to get a dozen men on board by the time the ship set sail, nowhere near enough in his opinion.

Thankfully after a few minutes the exchange ended on an amicable note and the tallest of the mercenaries, evidently the leader, shook Grunwald's hand. Business done the three of them set off in search of the town.

_Well that should please the captain. I wonder how he's faring with the Big Wigs right now._

-AAA-

The city's courthouse was situated just off the main square, about one block distant from the governor's residence. Like many of the city's central buildings it was three stories high, whitewashed and fronted by stone pillars. The front face was lined with a number of large windows with various decorative symbols carved into the stonework. The buildings right-hand side had several smaller windows along the second and third floors whilst the left one had no openings of any kind. Both walls were decorated, but to a lesser degree. Their carvings thinned out towards the rear of the building, which had only four small windows along the top floor and was surrounded by a high wall topped with twin rows of razor sharp spikes. Most of the lower floor had been given over to a series of rooms where various disputed goods could be held, whilst any prisoners brought over from the town gaol-a large two storey building built from grey stone-were kept in the dungeon that was located in the courthouse basement.

Those who visited the courthouse never saw any of these corridors or cells, the guards stationed throughout the corridors would see to that. Once they had entered the building the visitors would be directed through the main entrance and up the grand stairway towards the second and third floors. From there a group of uniformed footmen would ensure that all parties were moved to the courtroom where their business was to be settled.

It was in the central court room on the second floor that the claims placed by the _Vulture's _captain were now being decided.

Varus sat to the left of the main isle, facing the large three seated platform that towered over everything else in the room. Governor Morcambe sat in the central seat, a magistrate to either side of him. The governor's face was set in a deep frown as he listened to the case currently being put to him by the man standing at a bench usually occupied by the prosecution lawyer.

Alexander Damar, the same bespectacled man who had passed Varus at the conclusion of his interview with the governor two days back, adjusted his spectacles and sat down, his speech finished.

"Do you have anything more to say on this matter captain?"

Varus rose from his seat, "nothing to say Your Honour, I have submitted all the evidence I believe relevant to the case."

"Very well," Morcambe raised his hammer and tapped the bench, "this court is now in recess. We shall reconvene in one hour."

"All rise."

The people who had gathered in court got to their feet as the governor and his magistrates rose from the platform and filed out through a door at the back of the room. This done they began to disperse.

Varus remained in his seat, casting a wary glance at Damar as the man left the room. Varus didn't like him, and not just because the man was disputing his claim to the cargo. He thought back to when he had first learned of this.

-AAA-

_-The previous day.-_

"_Ah captain, I am glad you could make it. I trust that your stay has been a pleasant one so far."_

"_Yes sir, quite pleasant. The dockyard workers have been as helpful as you promised."_

"_That is good. Now I suppose you are wondering why I summoned you. Well I can tell you that it concerns the cargo you salvaged and I am afraid that the news is not good."_

_Varus looked up in surprise. "Have you discovered an error in my report your lordship?"_

"_I am afraid not. It seems that someone else has an interest in your cargo." _

'_What? Who...'_

_Taking a sip from his glass Morcambe continued, "do you know anything about a man named Alexander Damar?"_

"_No, I cannot say that __I have heard that name before."_

"_Then you have clearly not learnt much about this port during the time you have spent here. Damar is an important man in these parts and owns a substantial quantity of the shares in a Miragliano merchant company owned by the Raphael brothers. They supply this port with a fair amount of trade and they have friends in high places. This man serves as their main contact in this port and in case you are unaware it seems that they were the former owners of the Marienburg when she disappeared. As such he claims that the cargo she was carrying belongs to them."_

"_So he has made a claim for the cargo then?"_

"_I'm afraid he has. And given the influence he holds it is not a request that I can ignore."_

_Varus felt a faint trace of panic at the back of his mind. Magritta depended greatly upon trade for her power and as such the merchants enjoyed considerable influence within the port. If the governor were to rule in favour of this Damar then the salvage would likely be confiscated and he would not receive a penny. He had been counting on the value of the cargo to pay for the cost of repairs to his ship and to appease the anger of the owners at his decision to delay an important voyage. Without it he was certain to receive the full brunt of their anger, especially if that upstart Atcher were to submit a duff report about him, and Varus was almost certain that he was going to do just that. _

"_Does he have any rights to the cargo?"_

"_That may depend on the cargo itself. I do not believe that the Marienburg was carrying cargo solely belonging to the Raphael brothers, but if any of the items that you have salvaged do belong to them he may have a claim. My court will sit in judgement on this matter tomorrow and I expect you to attend, my servant here will furnish you with all the information you will require. I understand that you brought some of the papers back from that old brigantine."_

"_Yes sir."_

"_As i__t turns out that those papers include the ship's cargo manifest. I have ordered my clerk to examine them and we will hear his findings in court tomorrow. The decision the court reaches will be based upon the evidence presented by both parties so I suggest that you take this time to prepare your case."_

_The governor rang the bell and Varus followed the footman out through the doors, his brow furrowed at this new turn of events._

-AAA-

Grunwald looked round as Kennet appeared on the quayside, a small sack slung over his shoulder. Behind him came two sailors hauling part of a spar towards a waiting boat. Seeing the boatswain Kennet quickly moved towards him, ordering his two followers to finish their task and return for the rest of the spares. Grunwald studied the carpenter as he approached, noting the man's swollen eye and the stitches above it that marked where the bottle had torn a gash in his forehead, not that it seemed to bother him. Kennet took great pride in his work and like the boatswain had never allowed a 'minor' injury to detain him from his duties.

"I see you're bearing up well."

"It's just a scratch Archie, we've both had worse."

"Don't take it too lightly mate, you know that head wounds are always more serious than they look."

"It's been two days, if anything was wrong I'd have known by now."

"I suppose you're right," the boatswain spat the tobacco he'd been chewing over the side of the quay, "have you just about finished now?"

"Aye, we're bringing in the last of the spars and I know Harris will be ready to transfer the water aboard tonight," he glanced at the _Vulture's_ tilted form, "assuming the landlubbers have finished that damned job by then. Sigmar's hammer but they're taking their time about it."

Grunwald grinned at his friend's irritation, "Jonah do you still not know the docks men? They are incapable of rushing anything; if they do a job then you had better be prepared for a long wait. Besides I'd sooner have it done in a week and done proper like, as opposed to having it done in a day and coming apart on us."

"Yeah well, waiting's not my style. Ever since that attack I've been left feeling like an outcast round here, I don't know why but everywhere our crew goes we seem to be attracting dirty looks."

"It's that merchant who's disputing the captain's claim. I'll bet you he's instructed everyone in his pocket to stir up trouble for us, anything to try and sway the captain's decision."

Kennet snorted in disgust, "greedy bastard. I'll say this much-if any of his thugs come at our crew then there'll be trouble alright."

"Now now we don't want to be doing anything rash mate, don't forget that the authorities don't take kindly to troublemakers around here, and his lot have more sway than we do. We'd best watch our step or it'll be our arses in the fire."

"Then what do you suggest we do, cower onboard the ship like rats." Kennet could not believe what he was hearing. Ever since he had first met Grunwald he had never seen him bow down to anyone, least of all some arrogant trader.

"No, we just stay together and keep our eyes peeled. As long as this crew watches out for each other then we should be fine. Nonetheless the captain has issued general orders that we keep to the docks and the area nearby, that way if anything happens there'll be help to hand."

"He's going to let the crew ashore then?"

"He will tonight. Seeing as we're leaving the day after tomorrow he felt it was only fair they have some time ashore," Grunwald took another mouthful of tobacco, "and now that the men have had a chance to calm down they'll be less likely to dessert." _Especially_, he thought,_ with all this hostility on shore_.

"Except for O'Donall of course."

"Except him, but I don't think the others are going to follow that one."

The object of their conversation was a crewman who had disappeared two nights previously. He had been assigned the evening duty of guarding the hold where the salvaged cargo was currently being kept. At midnight Sinjun had gone down to relieve him and discovered that the man was missing. A quick search of the ship had failed to find him and after one of the crew had reported hearing a splash on deck some time before midnight it was decided that the man must have deserted. O'Donall had been a solitary individual with few friends. Truculent and insubordinate by nature it was not difficult to imagine that he had decided to trade life on ship for the comforts of the land.

What was strange was that he did not seem to have helped himself to the cargo, with none of the crates displaying signs of tampering-a few stones of jade would have fetched a fair price ashore, to say nothing of the gems. Perhaps he had feared being weighed down by the load, but then why not liberate at least one stone for his purposes?

"I suppose you're right there. "The carpenter leant against a stack of crates, popping a string of tobacco into his own mouth and allowing his mind to drift back to his unpleasant experience in the tavern three days previously.

-AAA-

_Kennet staggered backwards against the table, half stunned by the blow. The carpenter shook his head grimly in an effort to clear his vision and somehow managed to retain his footing. His companion, incensed by the unprovoked assault, lunged at the attacker, taking him by surprise with a blow to the jaw._

_As the carpenter's attacker staggered backwards his three friends closed in, two of them seizing Kennet's companion by the arms and forcing him back against a table. The third man closed in and dealt a couple of low-blows to the gut that left the sailor doubled over in pain. His attacker, a smile on his face, turned to his fallen comrade._

"_He's all yours Pike."_

_By this time Kennet had recovered and, seeing his friend's plight, promptly launched himself into the fray. His foot lashed out and connected sharply with the side of a knee. As the target let out an agonized scream and fell Kennet sprang forward and brought his own knee up into the man's jaw. _

_Seeing their friend go down the two men holding the sailor from the 'Vulture' released their captive and turned to meet this new threat. Both rushed Kennet, fists raised. The carpenter swiftly ducked behind the table, hitched his fingers under the edge and tried to lift it. _

"_Don't waste your time mate," one of the other drinkers called from the corner, "they're bolted down in case of fights."_

'_Great!' Kennet ducked a swing and lashed out, catching his attacker a sharp blow with his elbow. He saw blood spurt as the man's nose broke. Even amidst the mayhem he could smell the tang of alcohol on their breath and realised the danger he was in. These men were full of drunken violence and with their tempers roused they were ready to kill. Suddenly the second attacker cannoned into him and they went hurtling to the floor with crash._

_As this went on Kennet's friend had regained his feet only to take a full shoulder-charge from Pike. As the man fell he struck a nearby table hard, his attacker's heavier form landing atop his chest and driving the breath from his body. Scenting triumph Pike began to pound him repeatedly about the face. The 'Vulture's' crewman buckled under the blows, his last sight before darkness claimed him being the leering face of his attacker. _

_Kennet was faring no better. Somehow he had managed to role clear, but as he rose to his feet something struck him in the forehead and his back hit the floor again. Pain flared where he had been hit and something began to run into his right eye. He forced the left one open and caught the glint of light on metal. _

_Then something flew across the room, striking the man squarely in the wrist. The tankard fell to the floor with a clatter, the knife landing next to it as its owner fell back rubbing his wrist with a curse. _

_All four men looked round as a smooth, almost melodic voice sounded across the now silent room. _

"_The last I heard weapons were not used in brawls."_

_The man who had been struck by the tankard retrieved his knife and strode towards Joseph, a murderous expression on his face._

_Pike shook his head in mock sympathy, "you should have kept your nose out stranger, now I fear Jan here is going to have to remove it."_

"_He's certainly welcome try," Joseph slid smoothly off his stool but made no further move._

_Jan paused, a wicked smile on his face, "Care to beg for your life stranger?"_

"_I don't make pleas to pygmies."_

_Incensed the man lunged, knife held before him. Joseph waited until the very last moment before spinning on his heel, his right hand clasping Jan's wrist in a steely grip, his left coming to rest on the man's shoulder. Pivoting round he threw his own weight behind that of his assailant, using the momentum gained to redirect the charge. Propelled by both his lunge and Joseph's throw Jan went chest first into the bar counter. Before he could recover Joseph seized his hair and yanked him back, sending the sailor crashing to the floor. The elf's right boot came down to deliver the coup de grace with a solid strike to the jaw and Jan lay still. _

"_Take your friend and clear off."_

_For a few seconds the three men were silent, stunned by what they had seen. Joseph took advantage of this to move out of the confined space of the alcove. He had not moved far when the spell broke and the three of them rose and came at him with a roar._

_What happened next happened so fast that afterwards those watching could only agree on the general course of events. _

_The sailors rushed the stranger, probably seeking to pin him down with their advantage in numbers. Joseph's arm came up and down and Pike staggered back as the heavy knife struck him hilt first in the forehead. The elf ducked behind a table, grabbing the wrist of the first man to reach him. His hands locked themselves into position and with a carefully timed twist he flipped his assailant into a one hundred and eighty degree summersault that sent him sprawling onto his back, clutching his wrist in pain.*_

_The third man was only seconds behind him, launching a punch to the elf's face. Joseph swayed backwards, allowing the blow to miss him by centimeters. Again the man swung and again the elf dodged. Then Joseph struck, his fist impacting with a strength that belied his slender frame. As his assailant's head snapped backwards Joseph brought his knee up into the man's groin to drive the breath from his body, before seizing him by the hair and bringing the man's head down to impact against his rising knee with enough force to knock him to the floor. This time Joseph's foot descended onto the man's groin with a wince-making crunch. _

_Jan rose shakily to his feet now, whipping out a knife which he flung at the elf. Joseph ignored the blade as it whistled past his ear. Vaulting over the table he planted both feet in the sailor's chest, knocking him backwards into a heap. _

_By now Pike was back in the fight, his knife poised to strike, halting abruptly when something sharp pricked his throat. His eyes drifted down the curved blade, over the hilt and up to the cold eyes of the man who held it-eyes that gave no hint of emotion or mercy. Joseph spoke slowly in a tone devoid of any warmth. _

"_You have two choices-you can leave or you can die." He gave the sword a gentle thrust. Blood trickled out of thin cut above the man's Adam's apple._

_Pike didn't hesitate. His knife clattered to the floor and Joseph withdrew his sword. Within moments the four sailors were limping out of the tavern._

_Joseph watched them go then sheathed his sword and turned his attention to the fallen carpenter. "Hey," he gestured to the barman, "if you have any spirit bring it out now." _

-AAA-

Kennet ran his fingers over the stitching, feeling the fine thread under his fingers. He had to admit the elf had done a pretty good job of patching the pair of them up. They had spent the next hour resting, during which a group of watchmen had arrived to investigate the brawl. Those present in the bar had answered a seemingly endless number of questions before the watchmen were satisfied and left to look for the four culprits. Then Joseph had escorted the pair of them back to the docks before going his own way.

Grunwald noticed his fidgeting. "Good thing that elf was there."

"Aye. By the way, how is the recruitment going?"

"Not well, only nine marines have signed on so far."

"I know more than that applied mate, you're too damn picky."

"You know my rule, we're short-handed as it is and if they don't make the grade I have no use for them."

Kennet sighed warily. "A shame that elf won't be coming with us. I wouldn't mind having him around."

"I got the feeling everyone was avoiding him, including you."

Kennet shrugged, "he's a strange one and I' m not sure I trust him, but he would be a good one to have around in a crisis."

"Yes, I don't suppose you asked him if he'd volunteer."

"I mentioned it but he didn't seem very interested, said he'd think about it then just walked off."

"Well now, that's a pity."

-AAA-

Varus watched apprehensively as the panel re-appeared when recess had finished. The courtroom clerk bowed respectfully as they approached the bench and ordered those present to be seated.

Morcambe tapped the desk with his hammer and rose to his feet.

"After careful deliberation and consideration of the evidence presented to this panel we have come to a decision. The brigantine _Marienburg _was discovered adrift and outside the territorial waters of any of the Estalian kingdoms, meaning that neither this port nor any of the other kingdoms have any claim upon the goods salvaged. We therefore award full salvage rights to the captain and crew of the _Vulture_. As to the claims presented by the representatives of the Raphael brothers, our analysis of the cargo logs taken from the _Marienburg _hasrevealed that none of the salvaged items match those claimed by the merchants, as to the fate of those items we can only presume they were lost with the brigantine when she sank. It is a pity that captain Varus was not able to salvage her, but in view of the circumstances that led to her loss we conclude there is nothing further that he or his crew could have done. Captain Varus, it is the ruling of this court that you are awarded full ownership of all salvaged items currently aboard your ship. This court is now adjourned."

Damar, to his credit, did not raise any protestations-he knew better than to make a scene in court. Instead the man gathered up his papers, adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles and exited the court. At the doors he was met by two cloaked men who had been observing the proceedings from the public gallery.

"Fetch Atcher here immediately."

"He's here already here sir, downstairs."

"Take me to him at once."

Varus meanwhile shook hands with his lawyer and, after thanking the man profusely, exited the room once he was sure Damar had gone. He had no desire to meet with his sinister looking rival and with this dilemma now over all that remained was to finish provisioning the ship and deliver the governor's 'share' of the salvage.

As he descended the stairs the captain noticed Damar locked in conversation with a group of men in a corner of the hall.

_I just hope he doesn't cause any more trouble_. Perhaps it would be best if he went ashore as little as possible for the remainder of their stay.

-AAA-

"I don't understand why this cargo is so important to you Damar; you must make more than its value each year."

"My interest in this cargo is not your concern Mr. Atcher. Despite the court's decision we have the prior claim and if the item we seek has been recovered then it is very important that we obtain it. If our clients learn about it, and I am sure they will, then they will expect an immediate delivery."

"Then just tell them that you lost it, say the matter is out of your hands and the contract is cancelled".

For the first time Atcher saw the mask of calm slip, "oh no, these are _not_ the sort of people you can cancel on!"

"It's a pity then that it seems to have slipped through your fingers."

Damar concealed his irritation with the young upstart. The aristocrat was an essential part of their plan and it would be important to keep him on their side, especially as his potential usefulness might be increased if things did not go according to plan.

"The final dice is not yet cast Mr. Atcher. I suggest that you focus on your particular duties and leave this little matter to me. Now as I recall you have some 'recruits' to prepare.

Atcher shrugged airily, "I suppose so, I could do with better raw material to work with, but I suppose that lot will just have to do."

"They will only be what you make of them youngster, no more and no less. And now if you will excuse me I have some arrangements to make." He turned and exited through the main doors, the two hooded men in tow.

-AAA-

As soon as they were out of sight of the courthouse Damar motioned the tall dark skinned Estalian alongside. "Have you kept an eye on that mercenary who brought us the scroll?"

"Yes sir, we have one of our men watching him now. He seems to have taken up residence in a tavern called the Miller's Lady."

"Good, in that case I have a task for the two of you."

-AAA-

The hot sun beat down upon the young nobleman, quickly soaking him with sweat. With a grunt of irritation he picked up his pace, endeavouring to keep to the shade wherever possible. His ill mood had been further aggravated by that recent meeting with Damar. Although they were supposedly on the same side Atcher did not like the man, there was something decidedly...strange about him. It was his face more than anything else; it frequently wore an expression that people only wore when deep in thought. Even when engaged in direct conversation the man's eyes had a habit of drifting off to the side and his face becoming set in concentration. It was unsettling to say the least. Atcher had the feeling the man could hold a full conversation and simultaneously plan his next dinner party right down to the guest list. A complex mind, near impossible to read. And he didn't like that, for nothing unnerved him more than a man whom he could not read.

-AAA-

_Three days previously._

_Atcher followed the footman through the elaborately decorated main hallway and up a flight of stairs to a small room at the rear of the house. His escort opened the door and motioned for him to enter. "The master will be with you shortly my lord." With that the footman closed the door behind him._

_The nobleman studied the room. It was evidently a private study, as indicated by both the finely carved writing desk below the room's small window and a row of shelves in the right hand corner, all lined with leather-backed volumes. Atcher took one book down and thumbed idly through the pages. As he had suspected they were made of paper, rather than the calf-skin volumes used throughout lands such as the Empire and the kingdom of Bretonnia. The owner must be a man of great wealth and influence to have obtained such a collection of what was a relatively new technology. _

_The room itself was painted in a mixture of white and pale yellow colours and except for the desk and a small cabinet behind the door it was sparsely furnished, save for the coving around the ceiling's border, which was carved into shapes of what looked like armed men and dogs in pursuit of a horned animal-presumably a deer of some kind._

'_So this one has wealth but he doesn't squander it. I always said you could learn the most about someone from their personal quarters.' _

_His musings were interrupted when the door opened to reveal a short man in his late forties. The man was dressed in black velvet, his black hair was greying rapidly, although his jet black eyebrows were as yet untouched by grey, and he wore a pair of thin wire-rimmed spectacles. With a quick appraising glance he extended his hand._

"_Mr. Atcher I presume," the man had a strong grip. _

"_Mr. Damar." Atcher knew little about this man save what he had been able to learn through conversations with his father. Alexander Damar, if his name was anything to go by, was believed to hail from Bretonnia. The son of a wealthy merchant, at some point in his life he had committed an act that had earned him the fury of the king's justices and, fearing persecution, his family had fled east through the steep passes of the Apuccini mountains. Somehow they had navigated this treacherous goblin-infested terrain into the Border Princes where, finding favour with one of the local warlords, his father had established a small trading business which Damar had eventually succeeded to. Some eighteen years ago the business had been bought out by the Raphael brothers and Damar had been appointed as their chief administrator, eventually transferring his headquarters to Magritta as the city rose in prominence. Since then he had busied himself with building connections that would ensure his employees a strong level of power within the local trading circles. _

"_I'm glad you have arrived, and I trust that you had a pleasant trip."_

"_It was certainly an eventful one."_

"_Ah, I can guess from your tone that there is a story behind that. It would please me to hear it but first I believe we have some business to attend to."_

"_Yes," Atcher reached into his bag and retrieved the sealed document he had been preparing over the last few days. Without a word Damar reached across the desk and unfurled the calfskin document, his eyes scanning its contents. Atcher sat in silence as his host read._

_After a few minutes Damar raised his eyebrows in surprise, but made no comment. Finally he rolled up the scroll and set it aside. "You have done well young man; I trust that this will serve us well with establishing the cover story. And now I hope you are ready for your next task." _

"_I have come prepared for that, and I trust that you have the men that I will require for the job."_

"_Yes, I have them quartered at various points in the town. Do you know how long before the 'Vulture' will sail?"_

"_Not exactly, but judging by the damage she received she should be in port for at least four days."_

"_Good, more than enough time. You can start briefing them tomorrow. Meanwhile I am going to have some of my men seek out the ship's crew. That way we can hopefully gather more information on what her captain plans to do." _

"_So the plan remains unchanged."_

"_It does, you will book passage on that ship again and our 'friends' will make the rendezvous once she is off the Sartossan coast." He moved over to the desk, opened a draw and withdrew a small hand-held mirror which he handed to Atcher. "This is enchanted and it is one of a pair. When you issue the command 'Give me sight beyond sight' you will be able to communicate with the bearer of its twin. I trust you will be able to handle our acquaintance Karl when the time comes."_

_Atcher nodded coolly in reply, "I am quite certain I can." _

"_Good, I won't keep you much longer but your letter also mentions something that interests me greatly." At the nobleman's puzzled expression he continued, "I refer to this strange ship you encountered-the 'Marienburg". _

"_What of her?"_

"_I am curious. Tell me everything that happened, starting from the beginning."_

"_To what end sir, if you don't mind me asking?"_

"_Oh, just h__umour an old man for now."_

_Damar sat in silence, his face set in an expression of deep concentration; as he listened to Atcher relate the events that had taken place several days previously-the discovery of the brigantine and the events surrounding her loss. When the tale was finished he leaned back in his chair, staring at his guest over crossed fingers._

"_This cargo you say they salvaged, did you manage to get a look at it?"_

"_No, it was taken below and kept under guard. My servant did try to get down there but the guard would not let him past. We did consider trying to break in but decided it was too risky."_

"_These crates, describe them to me."_

"_There was nothing to describe-just two large rectangular crates and a few smaller ones. They were all rotting away by then of course."_

"_These larger crates, did have any markings?"_

"_Not that I could see," the older man had his interest now and Atcher decided to risk pressing his luck, "I have told you my story, now might I be permitted to ask you something?"_

_Damar shrugged, "if you must."_

"_Why the interest, did you have some connection with this cargo."_

"_Very astute." For a moment Damar considered ending the topic, then the thought crossed his mind-'why not, this one might prove some more use here.' He got up from his desk, opened the door and checked that the corridor was clear. Satisfied he returned to his seat._

"_What I am about to tell you is strictly confidential, and I warn you not to repeat a word of this to anyone including your father. Do you understand?"_

"_Yes." _

"_Very well then, much of what I am about to tell you will in any case be discovered by the officials but there are certain facts that I wish to remain unknown. The 'Marienburg' was once owned by this company. Fifteen years ago we purchased her from a rival of ours. She was a sound investment and made several successful voyages until some ten years back when she set sail from Miragliano with a cargo of spices, fabrics and precious gems. With her speed we were confident she could outpace any pirates she might encounter and we know for fact that she made it as far as the tip of the Fool's Point Rocks. But after that she vanished, no trace of her was ever found."_

"_So you're concerned about the fate the gems-I'm not sure whether any of those were recovered."_

"_It is not the gems that concern us, in truth only a small part of the cargo was the property of this firm-the rest was being carried as a gesture of goodwill for some other traders we were dealing with at the time. Their disappearance caused a certain amount of ill feeling but we managed to smooth things over. There was, however, one item aboard which we prized very highly. It held great value and as such it was vital to ensure that the item reached us as quickly as possible, which is why we entrusted it to our fastest ship. Naturally its loss came as a severe blow to us."_

"_And you think that it may be in one of these crates that captain Varus recovered?"_

"_It was hidden in one of the rectangular crates and I know there were only three of those aboard. Chances are it may be in one of the two recovered."_

"_This item, what was it exactly?"_

"_That is on a need to know only basis I am afraid. I will of course inform you should the need arise, but for now you must content yourself with what I have told you. While we are on the subject, do you know if that captain has gone to the governor yet?"_

"_I believe he will be there by now."_

"_Then I must bid you farewell for now-this matter will require my immediate attention."_

-AAA-

_Well it's not my concern. I'm only here to prepare the men, let that one worry about the rest. _Atcher finally came to the door of his lodgings and gratefully entered the tavern's cool interior.

-AAA-

While this was going on Ellaine Brionne was trying to resolve her own problems.

"Ellaine you know how I feel about this, are you sure there isn't someone else we can send along. I have several trusted servants who would be quite capable of accomplishing what you are proposing to do."

Ellaine bowed her head as Louisa finished pinning her hair in place, tying her mistresses' long tresses into a neat pony tail and finishing the look by fastening a length of red ribbon to the base of the neck. The Bretonnian noblewoman regarded her friend in the reflection of her dressing table mirror.

"We've had this conversation already Jane, we both know there is no other way. I have no one else around here to trust with something this important." She rose from her seat, "no I must attend to this matter myself, come Louisa." The two women descended the stairs and exited the house, climbing into the carriage that awaited them outside.

"The coachman doffed his hat in greeting, "where too miss?"

"The docks if you please. I have enquiries to make there." She knew that Jane's servants would already be combing the docks, making enquiries about all incoming and outgoing ships, but Ellaine needed to do something-she had never been good at sitting around idly waiting for news.

As the carriage pulled away from the house Ellaine allowed herself a brief moment of relaxation, something that had not come easily lately. This business was beginning the wear her down, and just when everything had seemed to be going according to plan it was now up in the air.

It had all started out fairly simple. Several months previously she had received a message from her cousin Belle. The two women had been close friends as children before Belle's family had moved overseas to Miragliano in search of better prospects. Initially delighted to have some news of her relative, Ellaine had become alarmed upon reading the contents of the letter. Belle, it seemed, had allowed herself to become romantically involved with a young merchant named Gerard Kaestos. She had described him as a good, honest man with much wealth to his name. But there was a problem-their two families were currently locked in a bitter feud and had forbidden their children to interact. Undeterred by this the lovers had continued to meet in secret; but in the end it had become too much. Tiring of their family's feud the pair was planning to elope and make their way to the Old World where they hoped to start a new life. Belle had written to her cousin to beg her for help in this matter, asking for sanctuary once the pair reached Bretonnia.

Although hesitant to become involved in such a feud Ellaine could sympathise with her cousin's plight and had immediately dispatched a reply, instructing Belle and her lover to rendezvous with her in the Estallian port of Magritta. Her friend Jane Courtalla would look after the pair until Ellaine arrived and once there she would help them decide what to do next. She hoped to be able to help resolve the issue without having to assist in their elopement, but if the need should arise then she was prepared to do whatever was necessary.

So, leaving her lands to the care of a local knight of the realm whom she knew she could trust, Ellaine Brionne had set sail from Bordeleaux with her maid.

Her plan had seemed straightforward, but it was not working out that way.

-AAA-

Djack pushed open the front door of the Miller's Lady Tavern, his nostrils taking in the mixed odours of ale, tobacco and hot food. He stood in the doorway momentarily, looking around until he located his quarry. "He's in the corner, go and get us a couple of pints and meet me over there."

"You get the pints mate, I met that guy last time, reckon I have a better chance of persuading him."

"No," the tall Estalian looked down at his Old Worlder partner. They had worked together for two years now but Djack did not care for the swarthy man, whom he regarded as rude and easily prone to losing his temper. This matter would require rather more delicate handling. "You lost the draw, now hurry up and get the drinks. The boss doesn't want any unnecessary attention in this matter."

His partner grumbled at being entrusted with such a menial task, but sidled away towards the bar. Shaking his head irritably Djack moved over to where the figure in question sat at a small table in the far corner of the room. The man had removed his broad-brimmed hat but wore the same scaled cloak and had bound his silver hair down under a black cloth cap. The right ear's pointed tip was quite distinctive against the black cloth whilst the tip of the left one, Djack could not help but notice, had been sliced clean off. _How the hell can someone this distinctive be so hard to find?_

"Can I join you?"

The elf did not look up, "if you wish."

Pulling up a chair, the Estallian continued the conversation. "Do you remember me?"

"Yes."

"Then do you know why I am here?"

"Only two reasons come to mind-your master is either dissatisfied with my services or her wants to hire me for something. Considering the effort I put into the last job I would hope it is the second."

"You are correct," he paused as his partner approached, a tankard in each hand, "sit down Saul." The Estallian then returned his gaze Joseph, noting the long scar that ran down the side of the elf's face. "My master would like to hire your services again. Are you interested?"

Joseph shrugged, "first I'd ask about the money."

"The money is good stranger, we'll give you give fifty gold pieces as a deposit and a further one hundred and fifty when the job is finished."

"Seems good, next thing I'd ask about is the odds."

"That will depend on you, but if you play things properly I reckon you shouldn't have any difficulty."

"Finally I'll ask what it involves-I require all the information, hold any back and you can hire someone else. "

Djack waved aside his partner's outraged protest. "The task is quite straightforward. There is a certain object that has fallen into the hands of another party. It has great value to us and we would like it retrieved. Currently it is being kept on a ship anchored in the port. We want you to go aboard and retrieve it."

"What is this package?"

"It is a small mahogany box with an eight pointed star carved into its lid. The box…," here he glanced around to make sure no one was eves-dropping, "…contains a green gemstone. It is very valuable, but more importantly it is a family heirloom of my master's and he is willing to pay handsomely for its return."

"Very careless of him to lose it."

"The stone was being transported by sea when the ship it was being carried on disappeared. It has only recently come to his attention that it may have been recovered."

The elf scanned him with a piercing gaze. After a few seconds (although to the Estallian it seemed like several minutes had passed) he asked "what is the name of this ship?"

"She is called the _Vulture_, and I think you will now understand why we have approached you for this job. You have a history with the crew and I believe that you know her captain, not to mention you must be familiar with the layout of the ship. This gives you an opportunity that none of our operatives will have. No-one will suspect you."

"My business aboard that ship has finished. I have no reason to return there."

"We thought about that. Our enquiries have revealed that the captain is recruiting mercenaries in preparation for his final voyage. You could always sign on and use you time aboard to retrieve the box. After that you will have a simple choice-stay on as a paid mercenary for their voyage or simply fail to show up when they leave."

"How do you know I don't have anything else planned?"

"We don't, it is a chance that we must take."

"When does the ship leave?"

"We don't know, but she certainly won't leave for at least another day. That should be more than enough time for you to complete your task."

"I've been on that ship for a while, what makes you think I would be interested in stealing from my ship-mates?"

Djack smirked at this. "I used to be in your line of work stranger. People like you and I do not have friends, only allies and accomplices, and only then when it suits our needs."

There was a lot of truth in that. Joseph took a small sip from his tankard, mulling over the chances of success. The Estallian was right in what he said, signing on as a mercenary would give him a good cover, especially as the ship's carpenter had extended him an invitation earlier that day. If he played it properly it would be a simple matter to get aboard the ship and move down to the hold during the night. If there was a guard then he could pose a problem-the elf would have to immobilise him quickly. This done he could theoretically be in and out in a matter of minutes.

"The stone must be very valuable if your master is willing to go to this kind of trouble."

"He has his reasons. Now that I have given you all the details you require, are you interested."

"I'm interested, and I understand your terms. Now these are my terms-my fee is two hundred gold coins and one hundred in silver, of which fifty gold will be paid as a deposit and the rest will be paid once I deliver the item, that plus my expenses. The deposit is payment for taking the risk and not for retrieving the box; if the item is not there it is not my fault I will keep the deposit regardless. Once we agree to this deal the terms and conditions may not be changed in any way. ** If successful I will have this task accomplished by tomorrow night and we will meet at ten bells in the Marlinspike."

"The same tavern as before?"

"Yes, its atmosphere will help us to avoid detection?"

The Estalian studied him carefully, meeting the elf's cold gaze. After a moment he held out his hand and gave a nod, "we have an accord. The box was concealed in a rectangular crate, like the two that were brought aboard to the _Vulture_. If the object has been recovered then it will be in one of those. There is one other thing you must know-do not remove the gem from its box. It is very delicate and any damage to it will void our deal. Under no circumstances must you remove it from its box, understood?"

The elf nodded, "understood." The two shook hands and Djack rose to his feet, "come Saul, our business here is concluded." He turned and left. With an ugly look at the elf, Saul followed him.

-AAA-

Saul gave vent to his anger once they were out of the door, "by thunder that one has some nerve. Who the hell does he think he is to demand more payment from us?"

"He thinks he is the one who will deliver the jewel to us. And don't forget that its value is considerably more than the amount he is asking, and I reckon he knows that. Just be thankful he agreed"

-AAA-

OOC: *Anyone who has watched _Cowboy Bebop _or _Under Siege II _knows the move I mean. I forget how the moves are executed though.

**Got this line from the hit film _The Transporter _starring Jason Statham. Great film.

-AAA-


	14. Footpads in the Fog

Disclaimer: Always include this; you can't be too careful ;) I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. I just enjoy it.

-AAA-

_Later that evening._

A pair of seagulls scuttled away irritably as Joseph rounded the corner, hissing their annoyance at being disturbed. The elf took no notice of them, his gaze fixed on the three masted form of the _Vulture_. Overhead the sun was now setting low in the sky and he wanted to complete his task before darkness had descended and the ship's company had set off back to their vessel.

A quick check with the harbour master had not only confirmed that the ship was still recruiting marines, but that only a small number had actually signed up so far. The harbour master had also confirmed that if the weather held then the merchantman would be setting sail the day after tomorrow. This suited Joseph very well-namely because this shortage of marines would mean that the boatswain would be more eager to recruit someone who was already known to them, an urgency that would probably be heightened by the limited time available. No matter how strict their standards no sane ship master would attempt to sail round the Sartossan coast without enlisting a sizable complement of marines to guard against pirate attack.

The dockyard was almost deserted by now, most of the workers having retired for the day. At the far end of one of the piers a small group of workers were laboring hard to secure several crates into a launch, cursing hard as one of the crates almost slipped over the side. Two other white haired men, one with a beard long enough to rival any dwarf's, sat at a table sipping mugs of some steaming beverage at the point where the stone pier joined up to the land. A pair of halberds was lying against the railings behind them, a small wiry terrier lay dozing at their feet and a lantern currently lay on the table next to them. These were the only occupants of the pier. Joseph studied the men at work by the launch but from their clothes he realised that they were not from the _Vulture_.

_Damn! Don't tell me I've missed them!_ It wasn't that important, but he had been hoping to sign on tonight, if only to give him more time to execute his plan. Now it looked like he was just going to have to try his luck tomorrow.

_Unless..._

Drawing the scaled cloak tighter around him against the strengthening breeze Joseph moved over to the two watchmen. Alerted by his footfalls the terrier jumped up and trotted towards him, a low growl coming from its throat. Joseph stopped short as the dog reached him, letting the animal sniff at his feet with raised hackles, careful to avoid eye contact.

One of the watchmen snapped his fingers irritably and the dog turned away to trot back to its owners. Joseph followed in its wake.

"Sorry about that stranger," it was the bearded watchman who spoke, "Scally's getting a little jumpy in her old age."

"Not a problem."

The watchman's companion took a sip from his tankard and swallowed noisily, "You looking for something stranger? Most people don't usually venture out here at this time of night."

"That ship," he gestured towards the _Vulture's _form, now a dark silhouette against the waning sun, "can you tell me if her crew is all aboard her now."

White Beard shrugged, "I believe most of them are by now, but several of them went into the town about an hour ago."

"Do you know where?"

White Beard's only response was another disinterested shrug. Taking the hint Joseph reached into his pocket and produced a pair of gold coins, handing one to each man. White Beard scratched his head, deep in thought, "I can't say exactly where they went, but I think that boatswain of theirs told them to stay close. If I were you I'd try the taverns closest to this area."

"Thank you," drawing his hat down over his face the elf turned on his heel and moved off into the shadows.

-AAA-

"Are you sure it is wise for us to book a passage on that ship again mistress?" Pursing her lips in concentration Louisa laid the blue dress out lengthways along the bed, folded the arms inwards and gently tucked the cloth into the trunk. "I mean to say that our voyage did not exactly go smoothly the last time we sailed and _he_ may yet make trouble for us."

Ellaine sat at the dressing table, running a comb through her hair which was currently hanging freely around her shoulders. Pausing briefly she turned back to face her servant, putting on a reassuring smile. "I can understand your feelings Louisa, but you must remember the urgency of our mission. The _Vulture_ is the only ship going to Miragliano and we simply cannot risk waiting for another one to depart, it could take too long." This much was true, the next ship currently scheduled to depart for that port, a small twin-masted schooner, would not be leaving for at least another week and after this there would be no ship sailing to their required destination for nearly a fortnight. As to attempting a journey overland, well that would simply take far too long and involve even greater danger.

"I know mistress. It's just that, well, _he_ will be on board and I know that he bears you ill will."

Earlier that evening, having finished their business at the docks, the two women had been fortunate to encounter captain Varus. After exchanging pleasantries Ellaine had politely enquired how repairs to the ship were progressing, whereupon the captain had revealed his intention to depart the port in two days time. As no other vessel in port had been prepared to sail any sooner Ellaine had taken the chance to request passage to Miragliano, to which the captain had agreed. Before leaving, however, he had given them a warning.

"I gather you had some trouble with Mr. Atcher during our last voyage." When Ellaine's feature's had tensed noticeably he had continued, "I should warn you that he will be aboard for this passage. Are you certain that you still wish to travel with us?"

Despite her misgivings Ellaine had agreed, though it would be a lie to say she was not worried. Whilst out on a morning stroll two days previously she had actually walked past Atcher in the street. The nobleman had not troubled her, but he had cast a threatening glare in her direction. Evidently his ego had still not recovered from the bruising it had received that night.

"I know that Louisa, but I also know how to deal with his kind, and don't forget that your admirer will be on aboard as well. I am sure that he will look out for you."

The maid turned away hastily in order to conceal her blush, "he's not my admirer mistress. I'm shocked that you would even think such a thing of me."

Ellaine was not fooled, "I have eyes Louisa, and there is no need to lie to me. You like him don't you."

Louisa hesitated, not really wanting to discuss her personal life, but she knew that her mistress did have a right to know what her servants were up to-especially if it might have ramifications during the voyage. "I...I know you...you weren't for my getting to know him back then mistress but he is a good man and," she hesitated only briefly, "yes I do like him, very much."

Ellaine cocked her head slightly to one side, gently meeting her maid's gaze, "now look Louisa I've known you for a long time and you are an excellent judge of character. As far as I am concerned what you do with your spare time is entirely up to you, but please promise me one thing."

"Certainly mistress."

"Just be sure that you understand him before you commit to anything. I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Don't worry mistress, I promise I will be careful." Louisa appreciated her mistresses' concern but she could not believe that Richard would ever hurt her. "And I agree, between him and you I should be alright."

Ellaine recalled Atcher's menacing look. "That being said," she paused momentarily, "I think you should bring my sword and dagger along. Did you bring your own dagger with you?"

"Yes I did mistress, as you instructed."

"Good, then I want you to wear it at all times once we are aboard. Just in case"

-AAA-

Richard Armittage took a deep draught from his tankard and slumped backwards into his chair, taking a deep breath of the tavern's smoke filled atmosphere. "Thank the gods for small mercies; I was starting to think the old man was never gonna let us come ashore."

At present he was seated at a table with a dozen other sailors, Grunwald, Straus and Ragnar amongst them. The little group had left the ship a good two hours previously and now its members were enjoying what was, for many of them, the first trip ashore in several months and they were determined to make the most of it. One of the sailors, a particularly broad-shouldered individual with a thin scar running down his right cheek, currently had one of the serving girls sitting in his lap and a tankard clutched in his free hand. By now most of the men were on their fourth or fifth pint, and the effects were beginning to show.

Grunwald leant across the table and bellowed over the din, his voice cutting through the clamour as easily as if it were a force ten gale, "he had his reasons kid, but I understand your feelings. Take my advice and make the most of it because once we leave there will be no stopping until we reach Miragliano."

"Too right, and I suppose you lot intend to drink the bar dry before then."

"Too bloody right mate!" Straus bellowed loudly and motioned to a passing serving girl for more beer.

Grunwald cocked his head curiously, "you got something planned for tonight mate?"

Before he could reply Ragnar leaned over and gave Armittage a hearty slap on the back, "I'll bet you anything he does Archie, he's probably got a rendezvous planned with that lively little Bretonnian skirt of his," when Armittage turned a cold glared upon him Ragnar laughed heartily in reply, "no need to look so wounded mate, you can't keep secrets from your shipmates as you should well know."

The men might not be drunk yet but alcohol had made their tongues, and their tempers, looser than usual. Seeing red rise to the man's cheeks the boatswain reached across and seized his arm, "easy there Richard you know twas only in jest."

"Aye, but you're wrong Ragnar, as much as I may wish otherwise," he clambered to his feet and struggled into his blue woollen jacket, "my meeting is with an old friend. It turns out that someone I knew in Marienburg has moved down here and I intend to drop in on him for the night."

"Why not just wait till tomorrow mate?"

"There will be no time, remember that the ship will complete her repairs tomorrow. We'll all be needed."

"Don't you forget mate," Grunwald's voice called after him, "all men are to report back to the ship by one bell after midnight tonight."

Richard waved idly to show that he had heard, before opening the bar door and exiting the room. The cold struck him like a physical blow. The warmth of the day had faded long ago and a cold breeze was blowing now, further amplifying the cold. Gritting his teeth against the chill the sailor drew his coat further around himself and hastened away down the street, trying to remember the route to the district where his friend was staying.

He failed to notice the four figures as they detached themselves from the shadows of some nearby houses and began shadowing him at a respectful distance.

-AAA-

Bill shifted uncomfortably in his position behind a pair of crates, his gaze frequently shifting to the opening that led onto the main street. Behind him the alleyway was cloaked in shadow with only the occasional scuttling of a rat breaking the silence. Standing up as quietly as possible, he moved to the entrance and peered around the corner.

"We've been here for an hour now Jake and no one has come along, can't we try somewhere else?"

His companion was crouched atop the overhang of the building's main doorway, his body carefully flattened back into the shadows formed by the balcony overhead. The man was completely motionless, only the occasional slight movement of the head betraying his alertness. Moving his hand slowly Jake scratched irritably at an itch on the back of his neck, careful to maintain his balance, "the military patrols won't be back this way for at least another thirty minutes mate, this as good a place as any to try our luck."

"Try our luck! We've been here over half an hour and no one has come by yet."

"Why don't you quit your bellyaching and focus on listening, I've told you before that patience…" he broke off suddenly and raised a hand in a gesture for silence, "no wait…yes I hear someone coming now. Get ready."

Bill shrank back into alley, reaching for his cudgel. He soon made out the sound of footsteps approaching slowly in their direction, their uneven sounds indicating that their owner was likely drunk.

_So much the better_.

Time seemed to slow as the footsteps grew closer. Bill tensed, waiting for the right moment. A tall figure wrapped in a cloak staggered into view, muttering a curse as it almost tripped over a loose stone. Jake wait till the figure was right underneath him until, with scarcely a sound, he leapt downward; hands held out to seize his victim's neck…and missed completely.

With unnatural speed the figure darted forward, just avoiding his would-be assailant. Jake, unprepared for the sudden move, hit the cobbles hard. Stunned by the impact he failed to see the incoming boot that caught him squarely on the forehead and completed his descent into the realm of the unconscious.

"What the..?" Bill recovered from his shock and leapt forward. He swung his cudgel hard at the stranger's head. The man jerked backwards, evading the swing. Before Bill could recover his opponent stepped forward and rammed the hilt of a dagger into his sternum, almost winding the footpad. Bill struck back, elbowing the man in the stomach. His opponent grunted but did not falter. A clenched fist struck the footpad on the jaw. With a neat step to the right his opponent brought the dagger round hilt first and struck Bill behind the right ear. The footpad fell to the floor with a thud.

Joseph sheathed his dagger and, after checking that the street was empty, dragged the two men into the alley. A quick search located the two men's purses and he duly cut the strings attached to their belts. Each purse contained several copper coins and a few silver ones.

"Well this is very generous of you both I must say."

He placed one silver coin in each man's pocket, pocketed the rest and walked back towards the main street. _Footpads, _he thought, _are such easy targets_.

-AAA-

_Damit, I should have been there by now!_ Richard paused at a crossroads in the streets, trying to decide which way to go. There was no point in denying it any longer, he was completely lost.

It had been easy enough to leave the docks and locate the merchant's quarter. The going had become harder after that, for by now the wind had died down and a thick fog had wafted in from the bay, quickly smothering the streets in a soft white blanket. Richard's bellbottoms were damp from the knees down but that was the least of his concerns, for once again he was being reminded that navigating a city by night is very different to navigating one by day, when one at least has the benefit of various local landmarks illuminated by the daylight.

The streets, normally so crowded with traders and townsfolk, were now completely deserted. The last people he had seen, probably a pair of laborers heading home after a night's hard drinking, had passed him a good half hour previously and although he would never admit it Richard was beginning to wish he had turned back earlier. There was something disturbing about walking these deserted streets in the dark with the sound of his footfalls echoing loudly on the cobbled streets. Even more disturbing was the way the light of the twin moons illuminated the pale fog as it swirled into various strange patterns, lending a ghostly feel to the strands.

He paused suddenly, head cocked to one side. When nothing happened the sailor resumed his walk, only to halt again. This time he was sure of it-footsteps, at least two pairs. His curiosity quickly turned into concern when the noises suddenly stopped. That could not be a coincidence.

Richard picked up his pace quickly, fingers drifting to the hilt of the dagger in his belt, his apprehension growing as the footsteps behind him increased in pace. Now he wished he had thought to bring a more formidable weapon-a pair of knives was a poor choice against multiple opponents.

Two dark shadows suddenly materialised out of the white cloud ahead of him, fanning out to block his path. Hearing the footsteps behind him drawing closer Richard quickly backed up against the nearest wall, hand flung back, blade poised to for throwing. The four figures converged on their quarry, spreading out to hem him in.

The sailor reacted quickly, stripping off his coat and holding it out before him in his left hand, using it as a makeshift shield. His right hand was dropped low, now gripping the knife hilt.

"If its money you lot want you can have it, though I have little to speak of."

The man on the far right spoke first, "the price tonight is not set on money my friend."

"Is that so? "The sailor sounded a lot calmer than he felt right now, "alright then, who wants to be first?"

The closest of the group, evidently the leader, gave a harsh chuckle in reply. "You have courage mate, I'll give you that. However it will not avail you tonight. Harry, finish him now."

At his signal the man on the far right reached into the folds of his cloak and withdrew a small crossbow which was slowly leveled in Richard's direction.

_Damn, quickly!_

As the footpad squeezed the trigger the sailor threw himself sideways, muttering a few short words under his breath. There was a brief flicker from behind his cloak and the bolt clattered harmlessly to floor.

"What the..?" the attackers stood there, momentarily dumfounded.

Rolling to his feet Richard drew his arm up and down. The would-be assassin fell to the floor, hands clutching at the dagger now protruding in his throat. Reaching behind his back Richard withdrew a spare knife and resumed his combat stance.

"Next."

"Right swords out lads; go kill the bastard!"

Richard caught the first footpad's sword in the folds of his cloak, somehow spinning him round to send the man face-first into the wall. He stabbed out at his assailant only for the blade to deflect off the man's thick leather tunic.

Some words uttered in an archaic tongue drew his attention back to the footpad leader. The man was advancing on him now, scimitar unsheathed. Suddenly his blade seemed to ignite; throwing out a beam of light of such dazzling intensity it seemed to set the fog ablaze.

The flash lasted only for a second, but that was all that its bearer needed. Richard staggered backwards, momentarily blinded. Then the bandit slammed into him shoulder first.

Richard recoiled from the blow, hitting the wall. Before he could recover the footpad leader quickly brought his blade down in a close sweep that dealt his prey a gash on the head. The footpad kicked out sharply, catching him in the groin with a blow that drove the breath from his body. This was followed with a sharp blow to his back from the sword hilt. Richard saw stars as his head struck the cobbles, the knife clattering free of his hand. As darkness closed in he was dimly aware of the glowing specter of his opponent's blade, poised to deliver the killing strike.

_Never thought it would end like this._

Then, just before darkness descended upon him, he heard a familiar voice.

"Time to die gentlemen."

-AAA-

TBC.


	15. An Old Friend

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer; it is the exclusive property of Games Workshop.

Sorry about the delay, I seem to be suffering from a lack of motivation at the moment. Rest assured to everyone who has followed the story so far that I intend to finish it as soon as I can.

-AAA-

Richard stirred, consciousness slowly seeping back into his mind. The waking feeling was very unwelcome for with it came a dull ache that seemed to drive deep into his skull, making him feel as if a particularly persistent blacksmith was currently substituting his head for an anvil and currently hammering away with some gusto. At the edge of the pain there was another sensation, one he could not identify at first. For a few moments he made no movement, preferring to allow his mind to come to its senses.

The feeling returned again, a sensation of something soft gently sweeping across what, after a certain amount of thought, he remembered to be his forehead. _What the hell?_ With a grunt of effort Richard forced his eyes open, snapping them shut quickly as the faint sunlight seared his vision.

"Steady there lad, you took a nasty knock back there so don't strain your eyes too much."

_That voice...I know that voice, it must..._ Taking the speaker's advice Richard took a few experimental blinks, allowing his eyes to adjust to the change. The light in the room was fairly dim but his head was still throbbing painfully.

"I warned you," the speaker withdrew the damp cloth from his head, "now try and rest your eyes-you'll know when they're ready to focus."

Groggy as he was, Richard's mind finally made the connection.

"Pyromancer?"

"Quiet now, you should know better than that. Still you were always a stubborn one as I remember. I am ordering you to get some rest and I'll check on you in a few hours." The sailor suddenly felt a pair of cool hands pressed to his temples, accompanied by a few softly spoken words. Sleep had reclaimed him before he realized it.

-AAA-

It was almost noon before Richard finally stirred, opening his eyes to an empty room. By now the throbbing in his head had faded away and he found that this time when he opened his eyes he was able to keep his vision focussed.

He was lying in a single bed, covered in duvets made from a rich red silk that matched the curtains currently drawn across the room's only window. The furnishings themselves were relatively sparse-aside from the bed there was a large teak wardrobe in the corner with a matching chest of draws nearby. A pile of clothes which he recognised as his own was lying folded neatly atop this chest. A picture of a large sailing ship-an imperial galleon by the look of her-was hanging from the far wall and a small cabinet had been placed next to the bed. Atop the cabinet someone had set a jug of water and a pewter cup.

Propping himself up on his elbow Richard poured a cup and drank gratefully, feeling the cool water stream down his throat. _That's very thoughtful of my host, whoever they are. Come to think of it, where the hell am I?_ The events of the night before were starting to come back to him, albeit as rather hazy images. He recalled the desperate fight and the sight of the descending blade, and then nothing. _Something evidently happened to stop them but what, or who, could that have been? _

The sound of footsteps on the stairs interrupted Richard's thoughts. Setting the cup down he managed to sit back up just as the door opened. His face broke into a smile when he saw his host's identity.

"Pyromancer."

"Pacificuser," his visitor, a tall thin man with a bushy red beard and hair that was beginning to grey, strode across and the two men shook hands, "glad to see you've come round. I was beginning to worry."

The use of their secret names helped to ease Richard's remaining concerns; he knew the other man would never have addressed him like that if there was any danger present. "How did I get here?"

"I'm afraid I can't answer that."

"What do mean? Surly you must know how…"

"I'm afraid not, it was a rather curious business in fact. I had just turned in last night when I heard a terrific banging at my door. This midnight caller had you slung over his shoulder and told me you needed medical attention."

"Brought here, by whom?"

"I don't know, I only saw him when I looked out of my window. By the time I got down the stairs they had vanished. I've tried locating the man using magic but I'm afraid that I've had no success. Whoever it was it seems he got you here just in time."

"There's no need for concern, I feel fine." Richard rubbed his forehead experimentally to emphasise the point.

"Not surprising, I always said that head of yours was as thick as a plank of oak. This proves it."

"And a good thing too, I reckon they must have hit me pretty hard."

"Someone certainly did, what exactly was it that you did to piss them off so much?"

"I didn't do anything, they were after me." Richard proceeded to relate the events of the previous night, making sure to describe every detail he could remember about the attack and every word spoken by his assailants. When he had finished the man named Pyromancer stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"Not about money, that doesn't sound much like a footpad to me. Most of those I know would have ordered you to turn it over and then scarpered-the authorities are pretty tight around here and the last thing the local footpads will want to do is to draw more attention onto this area."

"Not to mention these men were a bit too skilful for common street thugs."

"Professionals you think?"

"I'm afraid I do," a thought suddenly flashed across Richard's mind, "is it possible they could have been witch hunters?"

Pyromancer's eyebrows rose almost imperceptibly. "Mmm, an interesting thought. I suppose it's possible, those bastards are certainly fanatical enough to pursue us this far and given that the Estalian authorities are less...zealous about our profession they would be more likely to operate in the shadows, if only to avoid political interference. But with that being said, no one else knew you were coming here tonight and if the witch hunters were on my trail they would most likely have moved against me by now." For a moment he was silent, deep in thought, before finally shaking his head. "No, there is no way they could have known that you were coming to visit me, therefore I think we must discount that theory, unless you believe that they have been tracking you since you left the Empire."

Richard paused, the cup halfway to his lips, "I never considered that. I swear to you I've taken every precaution, and I don't believe anyone else in the order knew that I served as a crewman on board the _Vulture_."

"We can't be too careful. Witch Hunters may be fanatics but they are not fools. And if it wasn't them then that leaves us in the dark. Whoever it was they were willing to go to a lot of trouble to have you taken care of. Either way I think that the sooner you leave this harbour the better."

Richard jumped at this, "shit, how long have I been out?"

"All night and most of the day-but don't worry, I had word sent to your ship early this morning. That boatswain of yours, now what was his name...Grunwald? He was here until about an hour ago. Sends his regards and expects you to report back by this evening."

"That's very good of him. Reckon it shouldn't be a problem."

"No it would appear you are out of the woods now. Nonetheless I think I will escort you back, after last night we cannot be too careful. And we are not going to wait for nightfall, we'll set off after midday, four o'clock should do it, plenty of patrols about then and lots of crowds."

Richard nodded his assent, "that makes sense."

"Good, I don't want to take any chances. And since you're going to be here for a while I was hoping you could answer a few questions if you feel up to it."

"What questions?"

"What happened to you after the raid? After all this time I had assumed the worst."

Richard slowly propped himself up, rearranging the pillows to support his head and shoulders. "To be perfectly honest, I still don't know why I escaped".

-AAA-

"_All be silent," Pyromancer gestured for all conversation to cease as the group congregated round the small stone altar, the flickering torchlight casting eerie shadows over the gathering. He ran his eyes over each figure in turn, noting their various states of dress. A hint of a smile crossed his features as he mused, not for the first time, how unlikely a gathering they made, with none of the uniformed robes and metal ornaments that popular belief tended to associate with secret orders. On occasion the order did make use of incense, octagrams and other artifacts during its ceremonies but on the whole such gatherings were always kept low-key in order to avoid drawing unnecessary attention from the authorities. _

_Richard Armittage, the youngest of those present, met the grandmaster's gaze for a moment before quickly looking away. The man might no longer be his master but Richard still felt nervous on such formal occasions, always worried that he would say or do something wrong. He still winced when he thought about an incident two years ago when he had been officially promoted from apprentice to junior wizard. During the ceremony he had tripped over his robe and fallen flat on his face, much to the amusement and general disapproval of the assembled wizards. _

_Standing next to him Tancred Chauvette, otherwise known as Brimstone, tapped his quarterstaff impatiently, "get on with it Pyromancer my feet are giving me gyp!" _

_Pyromancer gave him a disapproving look, "very well, please bring in the initiate."_

_The door that led from the inn's cellar opened momentarily and two figures entered. The first, a tall grey-haired woman dressed in a blue gown, was leading a young dark-haired man by the hand. Like all new initiates to the order the man had been blindfolded and would remain so until his inauguration was complete. Slowly the two of them walked past the five assembled wizards and stood before the altar. This done the woman stepped aside to stand beside Brimstone, her tall figure easily dwarfing him and her elegant dress standing in sharp contrast to his shabby coat and travel-stained trousers._

"_Initiate," Pyromancer spoke slowly and quietly and yet his voice carried easily in the confined space, "this order has observed you from afar for some time. You show good talent in our chosen arts, your character has been judged noble and we have been impressed with your performance thus far. Is it your wish that you should join our ranks and learn the ancient arts?"_

_The young man spoke with a slight tremor in his voice, "It…it is my wish to join you."_

"_Hmph!," Brimstone muttered in a tone that only those standing near him could hear, "this one cannot control his own voice, I dread to think what will happen if he tries to cast a spell". _

_The others ignored him, Brimstone was not the most popular member of the order and all present had been expecting such criticism from him. _

"_Before you are admitted you must be made aware of what we stand for and what will be expected of you," here Pyromancer paused, taking a small sip from the glass of water he had placed upon the alter before continuing, "this order was formed long ago following the passing of our Lord Sigmar. Since any of us can remember the practice of magic has been outlawed in the Empire. Many wizards and necromancers have perverted the arcane arts to serve their own ends. Thousands have perished at the hands of these foul beings seeking power through the dark arts."_

"_And yet there are those among us who seek to harness the power of magic for noble causes. Many healers, wizards and even priests dabble in magic with the sole intention of helping others, of using their power to protect the Empire from this very threat, for as history has shown us, it has sometimes proved necessary to fight darkness with its own weapons. Such a path is fraught with peril, for magic is dangerous and corrupting by its very nature. It flows from the Winds of Magic and derives from the source of Chaos itself. The daemonic servants of the four chaos gods walk the astral plains and seek to seduce new followers to their cause. None can study magic without running terrible risks and many noble practitioners have ultimately yielded to temptation with terrible results. This order was set up to guard against such threats. Those who join it must swear to undertake two solemn duties. Our first duty is to guide promising initiates along this dangerous path, to teach them how to resist the temptations of Chaos and to pass that knowledge on to the next generation."_

"_The second duty we perform is more dangerous, for as wielders of the arcane arts we swear to seek out those who dabble in dark magic-the foul worshippers of chaos, the vampires and necromancers, the renegade wizards who threaten the stability of our society. We must seek them out, observe them and wherever possible dispose of them." _

_Understand this initiate, once you swear this oath there will be no going back. This life will be hard and fraught with danger. The foes you will face will be powerful and many of our order have died trying to rid the land of such corruption. Even those who serve the Empire as we do must be our enemies. The witch hunters and the warrior priests of Sigmar are worthy warriors and have done much to preserve the Empire, but we practice the arts that they are sworn to destroy and given the chance they will persecute us without mercy. The common folk of the Empire and even the nobility must also be our opponents, for they are superstitious and easily swayed by the Church of Sigmar and its warriors. Yet at no point must you strike them whatever the provocation, for it is them that we seek to protect and every act of violence we commit serves only to strengthen their fear of us."_

"_Do you understand what we ask of you initiate? Are you willing to pledge you life to our cause. Will you swear to obey your master's without question, to harness you power for the protection of the Empire and to use it to hunt down those who would threaten it. Will you so swear?"_

_For a moment the room was silent, and then the young man raised his head and spoke in a steady voice, "I swear."_

"_Pacificuser, you may remove the blindfold."_

_Richard stepped forward and unfastened the leather cloth, allowing the newcomer to set eyes on his brotherhood for the first time._

_Pyromancer stepped down from the alter, "in time you will be assigned your own code name, but for now you will be known by your first name only. Mandrake," here he gestured the old woman who had led the young man into the room, "has accepted you as her apprentice. Do as she says, remain loyal to the order and we will protect you. You are now one of us."_

"_Thankyou sir."_

_Richard shook the newcomer's hand, "welcome to the fold my friend."_

_The initiate began to reply, but broke off at the sound of heavy footsteps from beyond the cellar door. As everyone turned their attention to this opening the door was suddenly flung open to admit a hunched figure in a dirty ragged cloak. _

"_You must leave here, they are coming!"_

_The assembled wizards quickly ran toward the newcomer, some of them drawing weapons. Mandrake was the first to reach the sprawled man. Taking him into her arms she gently turned him over so that he could rest his head in her lap. A gasp of horror echoed around the room when her hand came away from the man's back coated in blood. Carefully the woman drew back the ragged hood to reveal the lined face of a middle aged man. The man's eyes were badly swollen and his nose and lips were caked with dried blood, but she had no trouble recognizing him._

"_Vulpes, oh gods it's Vulpes-quick someone bring me some water!"_

_Pyromancer handed her a glass of water which she pressed to the wounded man's lips. Slowly, gently, she tipped the glass forwards, coaxing him to drink. After a few sips Vulpes coughed violently and Mandrake hastily withdrew the glass. _

_As his coughing fit slowly subsided Vulpes struggled to speak, "you…you must go…they come..."_

"_Who comes?" Pyromancer's tone was sharp._

"_Witch hunters…they raided my house last night…don't know how they…how they found me. Tortured…almost broke me…managed to escape. Had to warn you, but they must know. Please get out."_

"_How did you escape?" Pyromancer took him by the shoulder, "answer me man!"_

"_My lord!" Mandrake protested, "can't you see he is wounded."_

"_This is no time for pleasantries, come now Vulpes, tell us how you escaped?" _

"_I don't know…they left me in the cell…must have thought I was dead…managed to get out, came here to warn you."_

_Pyromancer rose to his feet, "Brimstone, get up top and check the area. I want to know if anyone has come to the inn. Pacficuser, gather the artifacts, the rest of you evacuate now. The witch hunters may be here at any moment and I want this entire cellar emptied immediately. Take the passage and head for your hideouts. Be quick about it!" _

_Within minutes the few ceremonial objects were gathered up and the wizards made a hasty exit through a concealed trap-door beneath the altar. Richard, the last to leave, looked up as Brimstone hurried through the doorway that led up to inn, slamming it closed behind him._

"_The old fool was right, there's a large group of witch hunters up there, and they have a priest of Sigmar with them. I'll bet they have the whole inn ringed with guards. This is no mere raid boy, they knew we were going to be gathered here."_

"_That's ridiculous, how could they possibly know that? No one outside the order even knows about this place."_

"_Isn't it obvious, the old man cracked. Those torturers must have coaxed enough information out of him to know that something was happening tonight," he paused to slide the trap door closed, hearing the grate of the altar as its concealed mechanisms slid the small structure back into place, "and then they let him go and followed him here. The poor old fool led them straight to us!"_

_The trip through the passage was short and passed in silence, ending when the wizard's emerged from its other entrance and went their separate ways. None save the grandmaster knew where each member went, for at present secrecy was their greatest ally. None were to stay at their destination for long, within hours they would all scatter and stay underground until the danger had passed. _

_Knowing that the city's ports were probably being watched Richard had chosen to play it safe and had spent several days journeying to a nearby village where he had booked passage on a merchant vessel and sailed away the following morning. That had been the last he had seen of the order. _

-AAA-

This discussion continued for another hour, both men filling each other in on what had happened since they had last seen one-another. Eventually Richard decided it was time to pry into a matter that had been at the forefront of his thoughts ever since the _Vulture_ had put into port.

"Have you...have you heard anything from the others?"

Pyromancer's expression was grim. "No, I am afraid not. Brimstone went north after the raid and to my knowledge he's probably in Mordheim by now. I regret to inform you that Mandrake and Vulpes were apprehended within hours of the raid. How much they revealed I do not know but they ultimately died under torture. None of the others have responded to my messages, I'm afraid we must assume that they have been killed, apprehended or else that they have gone really deep into hiding."

"You mean that all our friends-Guthrie, Tancred, even Irene," he paused as an image of the fiery red-head came into his mind, "I can't believe all of them...gods we should be looking for them."

"We should do nothing of the kind my young friend. Our friends are either dead or scattered and the order itself is now broken," Richard looked up sharply, "that is correct Pacificuser. It seems that the raid we were subject to was only one of many. I have maintained contacts throughout the old world, and I did attempt to contact other groups in the aftermath of our flight. I know that master's Jadis and Moltor were both attacked several months back and their bands were wiped out. Other groups have also claimed heavy losses, all within the last year."

"Oh gods," Richard's head was in his hands, "but how could they…I mean even we did not know where all the groups met, how could they possibly have known?" This much was true. The danger of capture was always present and if the witch hunters ever managed to make someone talk the result could be disastrous. To guard against such eventualities the order had always operated as a collection of small groups of five to seven wizards. These were controlled by a master who would be in touch with the master's of two other groups. No master would be allowed to know the location of more than three groups including his own and no other member of his group would be privy to these secrets. This precaution meant that should any be captured their companions would have time to disappear and cover their tracks and any damage to the order itself would be minimized. Yet now it seemed that all these precautions had been for nothing.

"I do not know but it would appear that our enemies have been observing us for some time. These attacks cannot have been mere coincidence-they were too well co-ordinated for that. And they seem to have worked. Our order is broken and its members are either dead or scattered. For now at least we will have to accept these facts and concentrate on our own survival."

"I will never accept that," Richard's clenched fist struck the table hard, "the order lives on while we still live and now I've found you we can do something about it."

Pyromancer leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed and his eyes fixed on his guest over the rim of a pair of wire-framed spectacles, "and what, pray tell, do you propose we do?"

"Well we should start looking first; I'd suggest that we start around Marienburg, that's the last place most of our friends were staying when it all went to hell."

"I know that, as will the witch hunters. Do you seriously think that none of this has occurred to me, that I have just been sitting around here twiddling my thumbs and doing nothing!" he waved aside the unspoken protest, continuing on in a tone that one might use when addressing a difficult child, "you know the truth of my words even if you do not want to admit it. If the witch hunters took any prisoners they would certainly have talked by now and our secrets would have been revealed. Furthermore Marienburg is too close to the location of the raid so if anyone did escape they certainly won't be staying there. It is simply too dangerous in the Empire for us right now, hell it is too dangerous in the surrounding kingdoms! No, for now at least you and I must keep a low profile and wait. When the time is right we may return to the Empire but not just yet."

"How...gods how did it come to this?"

"We may never know the answer to that. Remember it was always a possibility that they would uncover our secret." _I just never expected it to happen this soon._ This last thought he kept to himself. "Remember that the witch hunters have spies everywhere and that with the latest unrest paranoia has been spreading amongst the populace. Everyone is ratting out their neighbours for something they may or may not have done and life has become more dangerous."

"And you think our friends...that they would give away our secrets if captured." As much as he hated to admit it, his host had a point.

"Do you remember what I told you before Richard?"

"I remember; you said that everyone talks on the third day."

"That is true. If any were apprehended then the witch hunters would have made them talk, we must assume nothing less."

"Do you have any plans right now?"

"As I said I intend to keep a low profile. In time I may take some students and with any luck I will be able to train them without risking detection here. What about yourself?"

Richard shook his head; in truth he had not given any thought to his future beyond this meeting. A part of him had hoped that with his old mentor now at his side the two of them might have been able to return and locate their missing allies. But now those hopes had been dashed and he simply had no idea where to go from here.

Pyromancer planted one foot on the bed, leaning back to stretch out a cramp that had begun to form at the base of his neck. "There was something your boatswain mentioned during our conversation, something about a sea monster attack."

"He did?"

"Yes, in fact he was very precise about the details and I was very interested to learn about that bolt of fire that seemed to erupt from nowhere, just as I was interested to learn the details about you being found unconscious in the part of the ship from where this bolt is said to have come from."

Richard met his gaze but did not attempt an explanation; he knew there was no point.

"You used one of the grade four spells didn't you Richard?"

Again no reply.

"And it almost killed you."

"No, my strength is greater than you think. I was never in any real danger."

Pyromancer rubbed his forehead wearily, "do you know that the study of spells involving metallurgy is not very dissimilar from the type of spells that I practice Richard. It demands a great deal of focus and skill to maintain control of your spells. I have already warned you about what could happen if you attempt one before you are ready for it."*

Richard held up his hand, "I don't require a lecture, believe me when I say it was desperation that led me to try it, and it's just as well I did otherwise both ships would probably be at the bottom of the ocean."

"Alright fair enough, but you know what your mother would have said about this."

"Yes I know, and you needn't worry I have no plans to try that spell again."

"I should certainly hope not, many of those who went down the wrong path were those who started with good intentions. And that includes those who tried to protect others-no matter how pure your intentions may be the danger of corruption is still very real".

"Yes, I know!"

An uneasy silence descended upon the room, lasting several minutes before Pyromancer finally broke it. "Have you considered staying here?"

"Excuse me."

"My practice differs somewhat from yours but if you are having any trouble controlling your spells I would be happy to help complete what is left of your training."

"I appreciate the offer, but I have to complete my tour of duty on the _Vulture_. Even merchant captains do not look kindly on deserters and from what you have told me before; the city authorities will likely take measures to assist their captains in imposing discipline. Right now it is not really a good time for me to be placed on the wanted criminal lists."

"Yes, you have a point there."

"I'll tell you what though, the next time we pass through here I'll stop by. We can discuss my progress in more detail then."

"All right, but take care. I promised your mother that I would look out for you so I will give you this piece of advice, do not attempt any spells that you can't handle unless the situation is dire."

"I'll be careful."

-AAA-

Their journey to the docks passed uneventfully, whoever had attempted to take out Richard did not seem to be in a hurry to repeat the attempt. Once they had arrived at the docks Pyromancer reached into a sack that he had brought along for the journey and produced a cloth-rapped sword, which he passed over to Richard. A quick inspection revealed the weapon to be a wide-bladed scimitar, the handle wrapped in black leather, the blade forged of bright steel and inlaid with runes along the centre line. It was a fine piece of workmanship but that was not what caught the young man's attention. What caught his attention was the faint magical aura he could sense emanating from the blade.

"The man who left you on my doorstep also left this with you, I suspect he may have meant for you to have it."

Richard lowered his voice and checked the area for eavesdroppers. "This is...magical?"

"Yes, I ran a few checks on it whilst you were sleeping. Its enchantment's are not particularly powerful but the blade is quite sharp. What interests me most is that one particular rune on the blade," here he pointed to the rune that lay closest to the hilt, "it is an unusual rune that I have previously only seen used by dwarves, who inscribe it onto various objects to light their way in the mines. This is the first time that I've seen it appear on a weapon."

"What does it do?"

"It is called a Rune of Light. To activate its power you need only utter the command 'Solaris, I summon you forth'. Once activated the blade will shine as bright as a beacon and you may then control both the brightness of the blade and the duration it lasts by using the basic commands you learnt as an apprentice. Quite useful for exploring dark places I should imagine."

Richard briefly recalled the flash of light he had seen the previous night during his fight with the assassins. _Could it be...oh never mind_. He had enough on his mind right now without worrying about such trivial matters.

"Thank you for this."

"Don't mention it dear boy, now off with you, I intend to get back before nightfall."

The two men shook hands and Richard turned towards the pier, eyes fixed on the jollyboat tied up at the far end.

-AAA-

OOC: *=prior to the reign of Magnus the Pious the use magic was outlawed in the Empire and those who practised it were ruthlessly hunted down by the witch hunters and the church of Sigmar. In this story I am assuming that this discussion refers to a small group of such practitioners, an order that would have moved in the shadows to avoid detection.

In the modern Empire magic is divided into eight lores, each representing one of the eight winds of magic. However as Teclis would not found the Colleges of Magic until the Imperial year 2304 I am assuming that their magic would not be divided into the eight lores and that these wizards would therefore wield a more mixed collection of spells. The mention of metallurgy in this chapter indicates that Richard's studies may be most similar to the Lore of Metal, although the burst of fire during the fight with the sea monster is more akin to a spell from the Lore of Fire.

-AAA-


	16. Disposing of a Problem

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

To my reviewers, many thanks-I'm always grateful for comments.

Pacificuser, this story is set before Attack on the White Hart and it is a prequel of sorts, although I probably will not reveal how until towards the end.

-AAA-

Even as the wizards were bidding one another farewell they could not have known that events were currently unfolding in other parts of the city, events that were to have a dramatic impact on the _Vulture's_ forthcoming voyage.

At the far end of the dock, not far from the harbour-master's residence, a man stood smartly to attention. He was dressed in a light grey jacket and tri-corn hat, the former buttoned up to the chest in spite of the heat. In his left hand he held a length of wood and several sheets of parchment, with a flask of ale, a quill and an ink-pot perched on a nearby window sill. His gaze roamed back and forth across the bustling dockyard, coming to rest upon a couple of men who had just emerged from the nearest street. Both men were clad in worn leather armour, their heads protected from the sun by dark broad-brimmed hats. One of the men wore a sword at his side and had a small round shield, only slightly larger than a buckler, strapped to his left arm; his companion wore no shield but had sought to compensate for this by the addition of a set of steel gauntlets and pauldrons to guard his upper limbs against blows. In addition to the dagger at his waist he had a vicious-looking double bladed axe strapped across his back. Grey coat waved an arm to attract their attention and the two men changed direction towards him.

"Good day gentlemen, are you two by chance looking for work?"

"Ve are." The taller man spoke first, arms crossed over his broad chest. He was a tall heavily built man with long blonde locks and pale blue eyes that hinted at a Nordic ancestry, a fact further attested by the heavy fur tunic he wore and the great axe on his back, "Ve understand there is a ship sailing to Miragliano shortly and ve vish to sign on as hired vighters."

"Ah," grey coat nodded, drew out a sheet of parchment and reached for the quill, "I presume you refer to the _Vulture_," here he pointed to the merchant vessel lying nearest to the pier.

"You are correct," the second man was the smaller of the two, with of a leaner build, short black hair and pale grey eyes. "We have business in that particular port and we require immediate passage. We understand that she is currently looking for marines."

"Yes, and you've arrived just in time, her captain intends to set sail tomorrow and I understand he's short of men. The two of you certainly look a formidable pair so I reckon you have a good chance. Now if I could just take your names for the roster I'll direct you where you need to go next."

"Ragnar Warbreck."

"Giles de Lancy."

Grey coat quickly jotted their names down on the parchment and gestured towards a grey stone building on the corner of the street they had just come from. "The man you will need to report to can be found in there, just ask for Ragnar Falkirk and he'll make the necessary arrangements. Once that's done I presume you'll be allowed to report for duty."

"Thank you," the two warriors turned and headed towards the building.

-AAA-

The Miller's Lady had become heavily crowded by midday, a regular occurrence given its traditional menu of venison pies, fried potatoes and fish stew which provided a much appreciated change from the daily fare of most of the area's inhabitants. The tavern's regulars had been supplemented by an impressive mixed gathering of men from the dockyard area and labourers from the merchant's quarter all looking for a hot meal after the morning's toil. Alongside them came sailors currently on shore leave attracted by the ale, and even some of the area's wealthier merchants had made the journey to enjoy the tavern's offerings. The mixed nature of clients meant that no one paid much attention to the two cloaked figures when they entered through the main door. Casting weary glances around the room they made their way to the bar, the taller one elbowing aside two people currently calling for drinks. The resulting curses were swiftly silenced when the man's shorter companion lifted his cloak aside long enough to reveal a pair of wicked looking knives concealed underneath.

Djack gestured to the barman, lowering his voice as the man approached, "we need to speak to one of your guests."

The bartender shrugged, "which one, we've got several of those staying here."

"I'm sure you'll know this one, tall man with silver hair and pale skin, wears some kind of a scaled cloak, I reckon he put into here a few days ago."

Recognition dawned on the barman's face, "yes I know the man you mean. Reckon he's upstairs in his room at the moment. Said he was expecting visitors, I'm guessing he meant you."

Djack did not answer directly. "Which room?"

The barman pointed to a door towards the back of the room, "Go through there and up the stairs. Turn left as you come out and go to the third door on the left. Would you like me to show you?"

"No thank you, we can find our own way." With that Djack left the bar and headed for the door, Saul following through the crowd.

-AAA-

"And that seals the deal gentlemen," Ragnar Falkirk handed the two marines a leather purse of coins that would serve as a down payment for their services on the voyage, "just be sure to report to the pier with your belongings this evening and I'll make sure that the boatswain is there to meet with you. Baring any complications we will set sail tomorrow and there will be no stops until we reach Miragliano. Once you come onboard my shipmates will explain what we require from you and will help you settle into your new role. Now before you go do you have any further questions?"

Giles shook his head, "no I think we know all that we need to know. We'll see you on board tonight." He tapped his friend's shoulder, "come on Ragnar let's go and grab a drink while there's still time."

"Ah, vell said matey."

Falkirk watched as the two marines trudged off through the door. Once he was sure they were gone he took out a small brass bell and rang it three times.

After a few moments the door re-opened to reveal a heavy-set man in his late forties. Ragnar shuddered as he met the man's stare. He had iron-grey hair tied back to the nape of his neck with a length of what Ragnar would later learn was wire. He flinched as the newcomer met his gaze-the man had only one eye, iron grey like his hair and completely devoid of emotion. The right eye was covered by a black patch, a savage red line running from the forehead to the top of the cheek. Whatever weapon had done the damage it must have torn the eye from its socket. Swallowing nervously Ragnar gestured to a pitcher of water atop a nearby table.

"Drink?"

"No," the man yawned slowly, revealing several missing teeth. Ragnar could not help but notice that the remaining front ones had all been filed down to a needle-point, doubtless a tactic that was designed to enhance his already fearsome appearance.

"Well then Heider, did you hear what I discussed with those two."

Rudolph Heider regarded him steadily down the length of his large hooked nose. "Yes."

"And?" the nervousness dropped from Ragnar's voice as his impatience mounted.

"They could be a problem, the big Norseman especially. I'd rate him equal to three men at least."

"I trust you will attend to it then, I haven't been able to ward off all of those who have applied and we really can't risk making things more difficult for ourselves."

"Leave it to my men; we'll deal with them as we have the others-as you said no point in compounding our problems further. As for the few that have slipped our nets I wouldn't worry too much, my men and I will have plenty of time to work on them once the voyage gets underway."

"Just be careful how you do it, word spreads fast aboard any ship and the officers aren't stupid. You'll need to watch out for the boatswain especially-he's a clever bastard. And before you go I'd like you to send a few of the men down to the docks now, I think perhaps five or six should do. The rest of them can come as dusk is settling. If we play our cards right we'll catch the captain when he comes ashore."

Heider eyed him curiously, "you still believe that's our best chance?"

"Yes. I know the bosun, like I said he's no fool and if we try to get so many aboard at once he's bound to be suspicious. At least this way we might get the other officer's on our side." By keeping his ear to the deck Ragnar had learnt that Varus would be dining at the governor's residence tonight. The trick would be to try and get the main group of marines to turn up at the docks at the same time as captain returned, that way Heider would be able to introduce himself and offer his services. With just a bit of luck the captain would jump at the chance to recruit this body of seasoned fighters and any objections the boatswain might make could be brushed aside.

"Very well Mr. Falkirk I'll have some of the men sent over shortly. Now if you will excuse me I had best go and attend to our problem." Without another word he turned and left, closing the door quietly behind him.

-AAA-

The first knock went unanswered; the second one brought a sharp response.

"What do you want?"

"You know us mate; we've come to conclude our business."

The door opened slowly and Joseph regarded the pair, noting the bulges in their cloaks that hinted at concealed weapons. He glanced both ways down the corridor and, finding it empty, stepped out of his room and closed the door behind him. "You're late, much longer and I would have headed back to the docks."

"Our apologies," Saul's tone dripped with sarcasm, "we'll try not to take up your valuable time."

"I'm sure you won't. Now as to our business I'm afraid THAT I do not have good news. I did as you stipulated but I was unable to locate the item. It was not on board the ship."

Both men exchanged glances, doubt evident on their faces. Admittedly the chances that the _Vulture_ had picked up the item they required during her hasty salvaging efforts had not been high, but the boss had sounded very sure when he had given them this assignment.

"Are you sure looked everywhere elf? In all the crates they took?" Saul did not attempt to conceal his dislike of the elf.

"Quite." Joseph's face was a mask of calm, ignoring the other's sarcastic tone. He had received a lucky break the other night. On his way back to the docks the elf had been fortunate to run into a group of sailors from the merchantman. The boatswain had been amongst them and, clearly feeling harassed from trying to shepherd his drunken charges back to the docks, had accepted Joseph's offer to help escort the men back. After a few discreet enquiries it had been a simple matter to 'discover' their need for marines and to 'casually' offer his services. A combination of alcohol and the pressure of shepherding the seamen meant that Grunwald had asked fewer questions than he normally would and this had enabled Joseph to get a ride to the ship. Once onboard he was quick to execute his plan, descending into the hold where he knew the salvaged cargo was being stored. Luring the sentry away from his position had been difficult, but eventually the man was persuaded to come up the steps to investigate an unexplained noise. Waiting in the wings, Joseph had clubbed him unconscious without a sound and, after checking to make sure no serious harm had been done, he had searched every crate and box salvaged from the _Marienburg_. Although they had contained a number of gems none of these had matched the description he had been given and no such gems were contained within either of the wooden boxes. Eventually he had been forced to exit the hold to avoid discovery. The sentry had been discovered early the next morning but fortunately he had been unable to remember what had happened and so far as Joseph knew no one yet suspected him. To keep it that way he had held off returning to the city for most of the morning, only accepting a ride back some hours earlier on the pretext of 'settling his bills'.

"And you are sure it was not there?"

"Yes I am quite sure."

Djack regarded him with a level gaze, searching the elf's eyes for any sign that he might be lying. Finding none he sighed wearily. "Very well I believe you, you did as we asked and I suppose there was always a chance it had not been recovered."

Saul chimed in, "I suppose you realise this means you don't get paid."

Joseph shrugged indifferently, "I believe the saying is 'you win some and lose some'."

"And you'll need to return what we already paid you."

"No, that was for the risk not for the delivery, as we agreed."

Saul smiled and moved forward until he was face to face with the taller elf. He reached into his coat and grasped the hilt of his dagger, an ugly smile framing his lips. "That is not how things work around here mate, I suggest you hand it over now before we have to take..." he got no further.

Joseph's head snapped forward, butting him directly on the nose. There was a crack as cartilage broke under the impact. Before the man had recovered the elf jerked his knee upwards into his groin, finishing with an open palm strike to the jaw that sent Saul crashing to the floor, his nose streaming with blood.

"That is how this works _mate_. The elf flexed his neck slowly, returning his gaze to the Estalian. "You did not intervene, a wise move."

"Quite," Djack nodded in agreement, "I suppose you'll be leaving the city now?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Just a guess, I suspect that you took my suggestion which means you'll be sailing away with the ship."

"That is true."

"In that case may I ask something of you?"

The elf's reply was non-committal, "you can ask."

"If you should hear anything during the course of the voyage..."

Joseph could see where he was going, "do you have an agent I can contact in Miragliano?"

"Yes."

"Give me their name, I shall stay alert. That is all I will promise."

-AAA-

The sun was low in the sky as Selby left the dockyard. After a ten minutes walk through the merchant's quarter he turned into a side-street and came to a small stone building located between two warehouses. The building's front was heavily ornamented with numerous sea creatures carved into the stones. Most prominent of these was the central carving, that of a great bearded man depicted rising from the waves bearing a great trident in his hands-Manaan, the god of the sea. Although Sigmar was the Empire's dominant deity the worship of the old gods was still practiced and all seafarer's were careful to pay respect to Manaan to ensure a successful voyage. Selby was no exception and had made a point of making an offering to the sailor's god whenever his ship put into port.

Taking hold of the large black knocker he struck the door several times. It was answered shortly by a middle aged man dressed in light blue robes. The man regarded him shrewdly, taking in the bell-bottoms and checkered shirt that marked him out as a sailor.

"Ah, I suppose you have come to pray, come this way please."

"Thank you," Selby stepped past him and reached into his pocket for the silver coins he had brought as an offering. The priest closed the door behind him and hurried to prepare the altar.

-AAA-

Dusk was approaching by the time the two marines began to make their way back to the pier. After a full nights worth of drinking both men were slightly the worse for wear, but by leaning on one another for support they managed to proceed in a strange crab-like scuttle back and forth across the road. It was fortunate that there were no riders or carriages about otherwise the pair might have easily been trampled. As it was they managed to make it to the dockside area without incident.

"Ragnar...will ya sop draggin meh all oer the place."

"Whatcha mean me squirt, yous drunk."

"Me! Me!" Giles feigned annoyance, moving his friend towards the left side of the road to avoid a man in a black coat and tri-corn hat who had emerged from a nearby alley, "watcha mean me.. I'll ave ya know I..."

His protestations were interrupted as something whistled past his head. Beside him Ragnar jerked forwards and uttered a scream of pain and surprise. Before he could react Giles saw something slide over his own head and a searing pain tore into his throat. His fingers clawed at the garrotte in a futile effort to get under the wire. It was to no avail-the thin strap pierced his skin and bit deep into the flesh, his assailant twisting it back and forth until it dug into the marine's windpipe. All too quickly the marine's struggles ceased and he fell forward, blood pouring from the gash in his throat. Ragnar was lying several feet away, the feathered shafts of four crossbow bolts protruding from his back, his own blood beginning to stain the cobbles beneath him.

Heider wiped the garrotte clean on a rag and re-fastened the wire around his hair, tucking a few stray strands behind his ears. He waved his hand and eight figures appeared from the shadows of the nearby alleyways. The men were all dressed in black and wore dark cloaks with scarves fastened over their faces. Four of them carried crossbows slung over shoulders and the rest had a variety of swords and axes fastened to their belts. They looked around constantly, wary of the threat of the night watch patrols.

"Strip them of their valuables and dispose of the bodies. Get the blood washed away quickly and quietly. Remember I want nothing found until we are well clear of the harbour, understand?"

His second in command, a man of medium build with close-cropped brown hair and a scarf wrapped around his throat wheezed slightly in reply "yes sir."

-AAA-

Joseph glanced up sharply as a faint scream reached his ears. He cocked his head, trying to discern the sound amidst the gentle lapping of the water, but all he could make out was the distant barking of a dog. The two watchmen remained at their table and did not glance up, either they had not heard the scream or they simply did not care. He shrugged idly, dismissing the occurrence from his mind. Footpads most likely, even this city was full of them.

_Not your problem Joseph_.

TBC.


	17. A Breeding Ground for Discontent

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

OOC: Sorry for the delay, in the end I decided to rewrite this chapter to get a bit more dialogue and action into the mix. This has turned into a real monster of a chapter (nearly twice its original size at over eleven thousand words), but rather than split it into two chapters I have simply used headings in bold to break it into three parts. I hope this makes reading easier.

-AAA-

_**The Next Morning.**_

"Man the capstan, unfurl the sails." The boatswains' voice sent the crewmen scampering up the rigging, the topmen hastening to unfurl the ship's topsails. Straining against the iron bars the sailors on deck forced the capstan to turn, drawing the rusted chains up through the gaps in the bow. As they shifted position the ship's anchors dug into the silt on the bottom of the bay before pulling free, churning the water into a muddy cloud. Finally free of her restraints the old merchant ship began to turn as the wind filled out her topsails. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed she began to pull round, assisted by the two guard-boats currently attached to her bow by thick tow-ropes, their crews pulling frantically on their oars to help turn the giant into the wind.

Once she had swung round both guard boats cast off their ropes, paying them no further heed as crew of the merchantman ran to haul them inboard. Now with the wind firmly behind his ship captain Varus ordered the fore, main and mizzen sails unfurled, followed shortly by the jib boom. These were allowed to blow slack in the wind, gathering just enough power to maintain steerage way until they had successfully traversed the harbour entrance, hoisting signal flags in acknowledgement to the farewell signals hoisted by the two forts. Navigating amongst the moored ships was no easy task, but under the watchful eyes of Selby they managed to keep station on their miniature escorts and avoid any mishaps. The guard boats, their duty done, turned back for the sheltered waters of the lagoon, pitching slightly in the larger vessel's wake. As the merchantman pulled clear of the entrance the chains were pulled clear of the waters, once again sealing the harbour entrance off from the outside world.

Most of the passengers remained clustered around the poop and main decks, their eyes lingering on the harbour until it finally slipped out of view below the horizon. The weather was dull and cloudy and once the _Vulture_ had cleared the sheltered waters of the bay a swift breeze picked up, whipping the waves to heights of several feet, casting spray into the faces of the unwary and blowing every piece of unfastened clothing out of place. Soon the majority of the passengers and crewmen had been driven below decks with the exception of those required to man the ship and a few hardy folk who seemed to enjoy the chill.

Once they were safely clear of the coast Varus retreated below decks, leaving Selby in command of the ship. The master busied himself by studying the distant coastline through his spy-glass, taking pointers from various landmarks. He had made this journey numerous times and despite the weather he had no trouble picking out the familiar shapes of rocks and headlands, any one of which could be used by an experienced mariner to pinpoint his exact position. To the average landsmen one would look no different from the next, but to a navigator like himself each of these landmarks was unique, each one a vital marker on the map.

Occasionally his glass would shift to their new companion off the starboard quarter. On the orders of the port governor the Magrittan authorities had dispatched one of their warships to serve as an escort for the merchantman during the most dangerous part of her voyage. The ship was one of the new galleons named _Capella_, slightly smaller than the _Vulture_ but with finer lines that suggested a greater turn of speed. In addition to her standard complement she probably carried as many as a hundred soldiers in her hull and like many of the modern warships her quarterdeck and foredeck had been built up into the tall fighting castles where these soldiers would be stationed when battle was joined. The function of these raised deck structures was to give the soldiers the advantage of height during close quarter combat, as well as making their ship more difficult to board. Atop her quarterdeck the menacing form of a bolt thrower lay, covered for now by a large dark cloth, added no doubt to give the ship a ranged attack against the more nimble pirate vessels that plied these waters. Selby was glad of her presence as it would serve as a potent deterrent for nearby pirates. Absentmindedly he stroked the carved whalebone that hung on a length of string around his neck-a relic he had purchased from the temple. Carved into the bone were several runic inscriptions which the priest had assured him would help bring him good fortune on his journey.

-AAA-

_**The Previous Day**_

"_We attach only one condition to your taking this. When you reach Miragliano you must take this to the temple located at the docks and place it on the altar. None may bear these relics on more than one successive voyage." _

-AAA-

**Present Day**

Selby smiled to himself. Given the chance he intended to see that promise through.

Down on the main deck Grunwald kept himself busy moving from place to place, his eyes constantly probing for signs of slacking. Just as stepping onto dry land after months at sea imposed a serious strain on one's senses, so too did time spent on land leave one feeling somewhat ungainly once at sea and with the crew having spent the last few days enjoying themselves he wanted to get them back into the feel of things before anything serious could hit the ship. His voice carried across the decks right up to young Erard in the crow's nest, right out to Sinjun in the bows, relentlessly driving them all to their duties.

_So far so good_.

The only two passengers now left on deck were both gathered up in the bows. In the forefront, drenched with spray, a middle aged man was currently bent double, evacuating the contents of his stomach over the side. Grunwald shook his head in sympathy; the poor fellow had been up there for the last hour now and didn't look likely to be leaving any time soon. That one had clearly not been at sea in some time.

Further down, part way along the forecastle and somehow managing to avoid being drenched by the heavy spray, Joseph stood with his back to the deck, gaze fixed upon the distant coastline, occasionally drifting down the length of the ship to observe the sailors at their tasks. Grunwald had been a little surprised when the elf had approached him two days ago. During the entire time he had been aboard the mercenary had given no sign that he intended to stay with them, no sign that he even intended to carry on travelling past Magritta. And yet he had suddenly come up to him two evenings ago, a sling bag over one shoulder, and had stated that he wanted to sign up as a marine. When Grunwald expressed his surprise the elf's only explanation had been that his plans had changed due to unforeseen circumstances and that as a result he now found himself in need of further employment. He had heard that they had been looking for mercenaries and wished to know if the offer was still open. Despite his nagging uncertainty Grunwald knew they would need experienced fighters on this voyage and here at least was a mercenary who had proved himself in a dangerous situation. So he had simply gone through the regulations and signed the elf up.

Since then Joseph had kept to himself, just as he had done on the previous trips. Although now employed by the ship he had also chosen to book a cabin under the foredeck rather than share quarters with the other marines. When not on deck he was usually in there, completely withdrawn from the others aboard. For their part the crew seemed to be content to leave him alone. Always suspicious of the unknown, none of them had been happy when the elf had come aboard in the earlier voyage, many viewing his presence as a bad omen. The battle with the sea serpent and his conduct during the attack had changed that to the point where they were at least willing to accept his presence, although any attempts at conversation were quickly brushed aside.

Well, as long as he did his job the elf could do what he wished. The boatswain had more immediate concerns on his mind and one of those concerns was currently present on deck. Glancing at the starboard railing he saw Atcher locked in discussion with two of the mercenaries who had signed on just before the ship had set sail. Like most of the marines he had encountered they were tall and broadly built. Their clothing was dull and worn but the leather armour they wore over it was well oiled and the swords at their side in pristine condition-the marks of a professional soldier.

For reasons that he could not explain the presence of these new recruits made him feel uneasy. Things had turned out rather strange ever since the recruitment notices had first been posted around the city. He had known that the pirate threat had only increased recently, meaning that the port would not be likely to be overflowing with marines, but even so he had been surprised at the lack of men who had applied for the role. Normally you could expect to recruit upwards of a dozen in the first couple of days, but the _Vulture_ had been at anchor for the best part of a week and she had received only half that number. Then sixteen of them had shown up the day before they were due to depart. Accustomed to sizing men up and deciding what they were good for, Grunwald had identified them for what they were-professionals, true mercenaries who sold their swords to the highest bidders. They knew no loyalty save to the one who recruited them and only then as long as the pay was good. He had always regarded them in the same way he would a weapon-they were a useful tool but best viewed with caution, for in the end you could never really trust them

According to their leader, a tall grey-haired man named Heider, they had recently returned from fighting for one of the Estalian kingdoms further inland. The fact that they were all part of the same group only made him more uneasy. As a rule he tried to recruit men individually or in twos and threes. That way there would be no pre-existing bonds within the group as a whole. Although such bonds would undoubtedly form during the course of the voyage, they would also have the chance to create a cameradie with the crew. By dividing the marines he made them easier to control, but this time it would not be so easy. The captain had been satisfied however and when Selby had pointed out that they were no different from any of the marines they had recruited in the past Grunwald had reluctantly allowed the matter to drop.

As though feeling his gaze upon them both mercenaries abruptly broke away from Atcher and headed towards the deck hatch. The young noble remained where he was, leaning back against the railing, his stare locking with and holding Grunwald's until the older man looked away. Now there was another cause for concern, since they had left harbour he had learnt that the nobleman had been seen conversing with different mercenaries on several occasions, always away from the crew and always seemingly taking care not to be heard-strange behavior for a passenger. He didn't know what Atcher was up to but he didn't like it. Still there was nothing he could do right now other than watch and wait.

From his position in the bows Joseph observed this silent exchange between the two men. Such discord was an interesting development although he did not feel particularly alarmed. Despite the image he projected to the rest of the world-that of a cold and aloof individual who paid no heed to the affairs of others-Joseph was always careful _not_ to be removed from the situation. Even more valuable to the elf than money was information, especially information of what was happening in his immediate surroundings, after all if trouble was brewing then it was important to know who stood where and how it might affect him. For this reason he had spent most of the previous two days with his ear to the deck, learning as much as possible about his travelling companions just as he had upon first coming aboard the ship when she had sailed from the Empire. Like the boatswain he had noticed the new air that seemed to have come aboard with this group of mercenaries the previous day. The mercenaries themselves were a sullen bunch, always keeping together and segregating themselves from the crew. Whilst this in itself was not cause for alarm-he had observed such behaviour many times before when new groups of people had moved into a new environment-but this lot seemed more isolationist than most other groups he had seen. Not only that, but earlier that morning he had observed the marine captain Heider in conversation with a marine who had joined the ship several days before the main group. Unable to get close without arousing suspicion he had still managed, despite the clamour created by a nearby group of seamen, to catch a few words-something about the marine 'considering where his loyalties lay' and 'making the right decision when the time came'. Then a small bag had exchanged hands. It had been a very suspicious exchange and at first Joseph had considered reporting the matter to the boatswain. In the end however he had decided against it, after all it was none of his business and there were any number of explanations as to what it might have concerned.

He watched as the young Bretonnian woman emerged from the stair hatchway. She exchanged greetings with the boatswain but completely ignored Atcher, who eyed her wearily as she strode towards the bows and climbed the ladder to the forecastle. She appeared to hesitate upon seeing Joseph, but quickly overcame this and moved forward to lean over the railing. Joseph studied her out of the corner of his eye, watching as the wind whipped out her long brown hair, her tresses falling in a manner that reminded him of autumn leaves falling in an evening breeze, an attractive woman certainly. He followed her gaze down to the clear blue waves below, noticing a shoal of fish swimming alongside the ship. They were moving close to the surface, frequently leaping from the water to skim across the tops of the waves. Ellaine watched in fascination as the silver creatures leapt into the air, travelling several metres before disappearing below the surface to disappear amongst the shoal. The shoal itself was moving so quickly that it rapidly overtook the ship, soon disappearing from view beyond the prow.

"Flying Fish."

"I'm sorry?" Ellaine looked at the elf in confusion.

"Flying Fish," he gestured in the direction the shoal had taken, "they use those long fins to glide when they leap from the water. A means of escape from danger I imagine."

This sudden conversation surprised Ellaine, up till now this one had barely spoken two words to her, had brushed aside all her efforts at conversation. Why the sudden change? "Thank you for explaining."

"You're welcome."

A silence descended between them, with Joseph finding his thoughts returning to the state of things on board ship whilst Ellaine tried to think of something to say.

"I was surprised to learn you had signed up as a marine, from what the boatswain said I understood that when you joined us previously you were just a passenger, and that you intended to leave the ship at Magritta."

"That man certainly has a loose mouth, and what he has told you is correct."

"But you decided to stay on with us."

"That is evident, as did you"

"Yes, I have business in Magritta and it was vital to obtain swift passage."

"Swift passage," it was hard to miss the amused tone that had now crept into the elf's voice, "then why choose this ship? I understand there was a schooner due to depart three days after we left"

"Well, I admit I know little of ship design but I noticed that this ship has three masts to the schooner's two which allows her to hoist more sail. That should allow her to get more power from the wind and we should therefore reach Magritta well before that schooner could hope to".

Joseph gave a small smirk, the first hint of emotion she could recall ever seeing him display. "I rather doubt that my lady, this ship may have more masts but that doesn't mean she'll sail faster."

"What do you mean? My friend's back in port both agreed with my assessments."

"Then your friends are clearly not seafarers. It's not only the number of masts that a ship carries that determines her speed but also the trim of her hull. That schooner was smaller and therefore lighter than we are and her hull was much more finely trimmed. This ship is at least twice as wide, her bow is considerably broader and she must have a much deeper draught, all of which means that she will create more resistance when passing through the water which means a much reduced top speed. The schooner was designed for speed; this ship was designed for storage. I think you'll find that the schooner will have reached Magritta long before we do, in spite of our head-start."

"Oh," Ellaine lowered her head and sighed, embarrassed at having made such a mistake, "it seems that I've made a bit of a blunder then."

"Evidently yes, you should consider your options more carefully next time" his tone did not encourage further conversation and Ellaine fell silent. She considered moving away but decided to try again. Despite her reassurances to Louisa, she was still concerned that Atcher might yet make trouble for them. They had few real allies on board this vessel and she was keen to exploit any openings, for right now any ally was welcome.

"Things seem to be different now, the atmosphere on board this ship has definitely changed for the worse and I must admit it concerns me greatly."

"Why?"

"Because here we are all forced into close proximity and if discontent starts to spread there will be nowhere for it to go. Trouble could spread very easily and I don't like the thought of being caught in the middle of something so far from land."

"Why are you telling me this lady?"

"Well…I suppose I'm just looking for the opinion of a fellow outsider. I was considering speaking to the captain; he should be made aware of this development."

The elf's face remained, as always, expressionless. "Best of luck to you I'm sure, though I think you'll find he knows about it already. No need to trouble yourself." He turned away, rather rudely she thought, apparently dismissing the conversation.

Elaine's patience finally snapped and she sighed irritably, "Why do you always have to be so damned unpleasant."

Joseph raised an eyebrow at her choice of language; he had not been expecting that. "Unpleasant?"

"Yes, I've seen how you behave towards everyone. Every time anyone tries to speak to you all you ever do is ignore them or dismiss them out of hand. Every time I try to speak to you your behavior is extremely rude at best. Why must you be so unpleasant sir? What have I done to offend you?"

"In the first place you have done nothing to offend me woman, and in the second place I simply speak my mind; do not mistake frank honesty for rudeness."

"It pays to think before you speak sir, I long ago learnt that politeness goes a long way. Might I suggest that you attempt to mix with others more frequently, it might prove beneficial to you."

"I find that I do not possess the gift of...mixing with others as you so eloquently put it, and come to that I do not recall asking for your opinion on my conversational habits my lady," the sarcasm in his tone was heavier than intended, but if the Bretonnian woman was put out by this she did not show it.

"Some would say that one's social graces are improved if one would merely take the trouble to practice."

Joseph shrugged idly, "So I have heard, now if you would excuse me madam," without another word the elf turned and moved off towards the very prow of the ship, wiping away the few flecks of spray that had managed to lift over the forecastle to splash his face. He glanced back in time to see the woman staring after him, an affronted expression on her face. Then spinning on her heel she quickly left the way she had come.

Joseph rolled his eyes-gods but she was annoying, since when did he ask for her opinion? A crew who distrusted each other and a group of passengers who openly disliked one another, this was going to be a long voyage.

Below them Atcher's gaze swept the decks, lingering momentarily on the noblewoman in the forecastle, drifting from her to Richard Armittage as the sailor scampered nimbly up the foremast. He glanced briefly at the boatswain ordering the men to their posts, then shifted his focus to Varus where he stood on the high quarterdeck.

His lips curled back into a smile. _Enjoy your time while it lasts. My time is yet to come._

-AAA-

The following eleven days passed slowly and the voyage proved to be anything but uneventfully. The discontent that had been observed by Ellaine continued to grow, chiefly centering on the party of marines taken aboard on their final day. These men who had appeared distant but agreeable when first encountered soon began to display behaviour bordering on open hostility. They formed themselves into a tightly knit group, resisting all attempts by Grunwald and the sailors to become accepted as comrades. This soon led to divisions amongst the remaining eight marines who had signed on prior to this group. Five of them were absorbed into the main body and they too began to shun the sailors, whilst the remaining three, in the face of increasing hostility from their fellow fighters, moved away from the cramped quarters allocated to the marines and took to sleeping amongst the sailors. After a week had passed a line had effectively been drawn between those aboard the ship but the reason for the division remained elusive.

At first there was no trouble beyond an exchange of distrusting glances. However on the evening of the fourth day a brawl broke out between a marine and two sailors. The marine was left badly bruised and one of the sailors had his face opened up by the mercenaries' knife before the fight could be broken up. Word spread quickly and the sailor who had escaped injury found himself cornered in the hold by three other mercenaries, with only the timely intervention of Joseph and Commander Heider preventing further bloodshed.

The officers viewed this development with concern, even alarm. Varus remonstrated with Heider, but although the man was polite and assured them that he would keep the men in line their behaviour did not let up. Then two nights later a storm broke out, lasting until the early hours of the morning.

It came without warning, taking everyone by surprise. The first signs were detected by Selby and were so inconspicuous that a less experienced sailor might easily have missed them. The sudden change in the wind and a darkening of the eastern sky alerted him to their danger and he struck the ship's bell sharply. "All hand's on deck, furl in the sails."

Cursing irritably the sailors threw down the cards and dice they had been toying with in the mess decks and hastened to their stations, the topmen scampering up the yards when they saw the deepening shade of the sky. While the passengers and marines stayed below decks trying to avoid being tossed back and forth as the ship lurched wildly beneath their feet, the sailors dashed about the decks, furling in sails and fighting hard to keep the ship's head into the wind where it could meet each deep trough, climbing the oncoming wave and plunging back down as it passed from under her, the only way to avoid being swamped.

When the storm had dissipated the crew was shocked to discover that four sailors and two marines had disappeared during the night. There were no witnesses to their fate, with everyone else having being either too preoccupied or too seasick to keep an eye on one-another, and after a quick search had failed to turn anything up it was presumed that the missing men had been washed overboard.

The burial service was held later that afternoon, the men dispersing once Varus had read out the last rites from his prayer book. With a heavy sigh the captain closed the book and turned for his cabin, glancing up as Selby joined him.

"A bad business all round Mr. Selby, with the luck we've been having I half expect that it will not be the last funeral I am required to perform."

"Aye sir, ill fortune seems to have dogged us ever since we first sighted the _Marienburg_."

"So you've had that thought as well," the two men began to descend through the hatch, "if I didn't know better I'd swear her ill-fortune would seem to have rubbed off on us."

"I've been thinking about that sir, and I think I should warn you that the men seem to be getting jumpy again."

"They're not still hung up about that damned serpent are they?"

"It's not just that sir, don't forget the trouble we had back in port and this business with the mercenaries. What's more that storm had a sinister feel to it; something about the way it just came out of nowhere-it just didn't feel right."

Varus halted momentarily, and then moved on towards his cabin, gesturing for the mate to follow. "I've known you long enough to know that you've never allowed such superstitions to affect you Mr. Selby, so what may I ask seems have caused this sudden change in attitude?"

"It's not a change in attitude sir, I've just been getting a strange feeling about that storm," here Varus opened his cabin door and Selby ducked as he followed him through, "by all rights I should have sensed it long before it hit us, but I'd swear it took less than fifteen minutes for the full force to arrive. No storm comes in that quickly, even a hurricane would have given an earlier warning than the one we had. What's more there's the matter of the missing men. Grunwald has been making enquiries and it seems that no one on the ship saw them swept over the side."

"That's certainly strange, but hardly cause for concern." Varus removed his long overcoat and eased himself into the high-backed chair.

"Yes sir, and with all the chaos on deck it is possible that our men could have been lost without being noticed, but as for the mercenaries, well I had a good view of the decks before the storm hit us and I could swear that they had all gone below by then. It seems very strange for them to have come back up on deck in that weather."

"You have something in mind Mr. Selby."

The mate shrugged wearily, "I really don't know sir. I just feel that something is very wrong here but I cannot explain what."

"So given that we have nothing to go on and, let's face it, nothing to really be suspicious about, what are you expecting me to do about this?"

Selby pulled up one of the two vacant chairs and sat down, "I know it isn't much to go on sir, but I stand by what I say. I don't always get feelings like this, but I'm getting them now and I'm certain that something's not right here."

"Such as?"

"As I said I don't know, I can't think of anything that makes sense. It is possible that the mercenaries have something to do with this but I do not know what, and even if they were behind the disappearance of our men that would not explain why some of their own appear to have gone missing. Nor does it explain that storm."

"No, and whilst I will admit that the mercenaries are a disagreeable bunch what could they possibly be planning? There is no great wealth aboard this ship save our salvaged goods and I have been sure to keep their contents a secret. Seeing as their pay depends upon making a successful voyage they really stand to gain nothing by causing us real trouble."

"Our comrade with the scarred face might disagree with you there."

Varus shrugged, "an unfortunate incident certainly, but their behaviour has been no worse than some of our own men have displayed at times and you know it."

"Yes sir." There was a pause, the silence broken only by the sound of the waves breaking against the hull. "May I venture a suggestion?"

"You may."

"I believe that it bears keeping a closer eye on our hired help for the remainder of the voyage, if for nothing else we need to be able to quell any more potential problems before they break out."

"Quell the problems you say," the phrase seemed to amuse the captain, "I'd like to see our crew trying to contain a band of hardened mercenaries. Still that is good counsel; I'll have Grunwald post extra sentries at various points in the ship, and I think that every man should carry his dagger with him from now on, perhaps cutlasses as well if things get any worse. Will that satisfy you?"

"It would certainly help sir; vigilance is our greatest weapon right now."

"Very well, but I think we'll keep this quiet for now. There's no need to make the crew more nervous, and certainly no need to alert Heider's lot to our plans."

"I'm afraid that won't be easy sir, you know that nothing ever stays secret on board this ship and I fear it won't be long before our suspicions are known to all."

Selby, as was often the case, was proved right and by nightfall the word had spread throughout the ship. The unexplained appearance of the storm on such a clear day and the events that it had preceded were later to spark the rumour that one of the lost men had committed an unknown crime which had invited divine retribution for his sins, for why else had such experienced sailors taken so long to sense the approaching storm. The rumour did nothing to ease the building tension, rather it exacerbated it all the more and soon the more paranoid members amongst the crew and the mercenaries had begun directing wary glances at one another and any hope the officers might have held of bringing about a reconciliation between the two groups was swiftly ended.

From now on the _Vulture_ would be haunted by the rumour of something that no sailor could abide-a jinx.

-AAA-

_**Four Nights Later**_

For a short while the loss of their comrades had the effect of uniting both sailor and mercenary in shared grief, but this feeling was not destined to last, finally breaking on the evening of the tenth day.

It happened shortly after the eleventh bell had tolled, when most of the crew had retreated to their hammocks following an evening meal of gruel and beer. By this time most of the mercenaries, following some brief weapons exercises above decks where they practiced their fighting skills under Heider's watchful eye, had followed the sailor's example and retired below decks, all save for a few stragglers who remained up to enjoy another drink of rum.

Ellaine had spent the last couple of hours in one of the larger cabins under the forecastle exchanging pleasantries with the other two women passengers. The advent of darkness had compelled them all to retreat below decks but, reluctant to turn in so early, they had decided to continue their discussions inside one of the warmer cabins. Louisa had managed to persuade the ship's cook to provide a steaming pot of tea before retiring for the night, although an offer of some of the ships biscuits-the notorious 'hard tack'-was politely but firmly turned down.* Fortunately one of the other women had produced a small bag of sugar biscuits which she had kindly shared out amongst the others.

Neither one of the other women had been aboard the _Vulture_ prior to her docking in Magritta and they had both been interested to hear both Ellaine's news of the fashions currently present in Bretonnia and her more gripping tale of the events following the sighting of the _Marienburg_.

"It must have been have been a terrible experience for you my dear," commented Jane-a middle aged woman with long blond hair and blue eyes, taking a sip of her tea.

"Oh you have no idea; I can safely say that I am in no danger of forgetting that experience soon."

"I cannot say that I would either, all this travel by sea is a terribly frightful business. I honestly cannot think what drove us to book a passage on this boat."

Julia Ormorond, who stood about an inch taller than her friend and currently had her long jet black hair tied back to the nape of her neck smirked in response, "we booked passage on this boat my dear Jane because we needed to get to Miragliano as quickly as possible. As unpleasant as it may be you cannot deny that travelling by sea is a good deal faster, and more convenient, than travelling overland."

Ellaine smiled as she listened to the exchange, deciding not mention what the elf had told her about the schooner that should be leaving port any day now. It was at times like this that she realised just how much she missed the company of her fellow noblewomen in Bretonnia. She had little stomach for the political power struggles that were constantly taking place at court out of sight amongst the gentry, but they had at least provided an excuse to meet with her friends, a luxury she had been deprived of these last few months.

She excused herself an hour later, closing the cabin door behind her and heading back to the stern where her own cabin lay. By now the ship was considerably quieter, devoid of the usual hustle and bustle that drifted down from the decks or up from the crew's quarters during the day and the passageway down which she now moved was completely deserted. Just up ahead she could see the moonlight glistening down through the open deck hatchway, its light mingling with that of the two shuttered lanterns that served as illumination and were currently causing the shadows to play eerily along the narrow corridor. In this silent confined space her footsteps seemed to rap out with an unnatural loudness.

Suddenly from behind her there came a sharp noise, like that of a plank creaking underfoot. She looked back over her shoulder, her eyes sweeping the shadows but could see no movement.

"Who's there?"

There was no reply, save for the distant pounding of the waves. After a minutes pause Ellaine turned back for her cabin, taking three paces before she heard the noise again. Again her eyes swept the shadows, this time drifting to a stack of crates lashed to the wall at the far end of the foredeck. At first she could see nothing. Concealed by the shadow of the crates and an overhead beam it was easy to miss, but when she squinted closely Ellaine swore that she could just discern the dark outline of a figure. She opened her mouth, the challenge freezing in her throat as the hidden figure moved forward.

She would later find it difficult to describe what happened next-the figure did not come into the faint light, nor did its facial features become visible. Instead its outline simply took on a more distinctive profile. It was of average height and had a lean build. The outline of its hair was invisible, suggesting that it was either worn tied back or cut short, but the most distinctive feature was the eyes which appeared to her as a pair of large deep pools that seemed to blaze with an inner orange glow as if they were not only reflecting the dim lighting but magnifying it twice over. Ellaine found herself staring involuntarily into the twin pools, her concentration beginning to fade as they seemed to expand, drawing her down into the bottomless depths. The surrounding corridor became an indistinct haze and she took two steps forward, inexplicably drawn towards the stranger. The figure stepped out from behind the crates in response, drawing a dark robe tightly about its thin frame.

Then from far away, at the very edge of hearing, a new sound reached her ears. Faint and vaguely melodious at first, it quickly increased in volume. Momentarily distracted the figure tilted its head so that the eyes were now looking over the woman's shoulder. Then from behind her came a sharp clang and the tinkle of something shattering. Snapping out of her trance the Bretonnian woman staggered and leant against the timber wall, one hand rubbing her eyes in an effort to clear her head

A sharp hiss echoed from the end of the corridor but when she looked up the figure was gone. Once again Ellaine's eyes searched the shadows but there was nothing to be seen. She was just deciding whether to investigate further when the sound that had snapped her out of the trance sounded again, this time much nearer and louder.

"Ohhh...her name was Nancy...she was a..."

The words of the lewd drinking song echoed loudly down the corridor. Grimacing at the volume she squinted and saw two shapes descending the hatchway steps. The leading one staggered as the ship pitched suddenly to port, cursing as the shards of a broken bottle crunched under his boots. His companion missed his footing on the steps and pitched forwards, only avoiding going face first into the glass by grabbing the railing. His curse was louder and considerably more profane, drawing a disapproving grimace from the young noblewoman. She watched as this new arrival somehow regained his footing and began rooting around for the bottle he had dropped, cursing again upon finding that most of the rum had been lost, much to the amusement of his companion who had now begun to move down the corridor in Ellaine's direction. The man's face was partially hidden beneath a broad brimmed hat but the clothes he wore identified him as one of Heider's mercenaries.

"Gods damnit! Gives us a sip Bill."

"Sod off! You should try an be less clumsy you fool."

"You heartless bastard, I'm not asking much, what's a few drops between friends."

"A few drops! I swear the minute you...," the man broke off abruptly when his gaze settled upon Ellaine. "Hey Henry," he nudged his companion with exaggerated care, "look what we've gots ourselves ere."

Ellaine fidgeted uncomfortably, conscious of their gazes roaming over her figure. She would have to be careful, these men had been drinking heavily and if she said the wrong thing the situation would quickly turn ugly. Of course a scream on her part would easily raise the alarm and bring the crew running, but would they come soon enough? And what if it was the other mercenaries who arrived first, how likely would they be to restrain their comrades? Still perhaps this could be resolved without an unnecessary fuss. Drawing herself up regally she stepped forward, hoping that they were not too drunk not to forget common courtesy and step aside.

It proved a vain hope.

Bill, the taller of the two, remained where he was whilst Henry stepped up beside him, effectively blocking her route. Henry grinned wickedly, revealing a mouthful of yellow teeth. "Well now my pretty, where pray tell would you be going this fine night?"

"To my room my good sirs, as you know the hour is late." She moved further to the right in an effort to slip past Henry. He leant against the wall, frustrating her efforts.

"It's always sad to turn in alone my pretty," he leaned in closer and Ellaine recoiled as she tasted the alcohol on his breath, "we've all been at sea for some time. I think you know what I mean-we're all crammed up together," he took a step forward, "and still a long way to go." He thrust the nearly empty bottle at her, inviting her to take a drink, "care to join us for a bit?"

Ellaine raised her hand and gently pushed it away. "I'm sorry but I really must go, please let me pass good sirs." Again she attempted to slip past them and again her efforts were frustrated as Bill, who appeared to be the more inebriated of two, stepped into her path and roughly pushed her back, a growl entering his voice when he spoke. "What's the matter love, do you find our company intolerable. The high and mighty noble think she's too good to be with the likes of us!"

_I am too good for the likes of scum like you_. Ellaine's rising anger easily matched his. In Bretonnia no man short of a fellow noble would dare to behave towards her in this manner and as a passenger she should be guaranteed protection, but drink had aroused this man's lust and she knew that ship regulations were not going to protect her. Still, she could at least try.

"I am a passenger on this ship and may not be assailed. The captain will not tolerate this kind of behaviour from you!"

Bill chuckled heartily, "what care we for that fool of a rooster-we answer to our own boss and somehow I don't think he'll be inclined to side with you." They began to advance, Bill taking another swig from his bottle.

She backed away in response, careful to maintain the distance between them, "I warn you scum that I am armed with a scream. If you make one move I promise I'll bring every man on this ship down on your heads."

She had, Ellaine realised later, underestimated them. The rum may have dulled their minds but not their reflexes. For a moment Henry stood stock still, her words still running through his mind. Then he lunged.

One hand suddenly seized her shoulder, forcing her back against the wall. Ellaine stiffened as she felt his other hand move to grasp her breasts. Anger coursed through her veins. Reacting on instinct she brought her knee up into the man's groin, driving the breath from his body. As Henry doubled over Ellaine shifted her stance and snapped her head forward, butting him squarely in the face. There was a snap as the mercenaries' nose broke, his head jerking backwards from the force of the blow. Before his friend could react she had seized Henry's arm, spun on her heel and rammed her left elbow into his gut. The mercenary collapsed to the floor, groaning in pain

Without a pause she swung round to face Bill, fists clenched and raised before her. He stared at her, confused at the sudden change of events. But the confusion did not last long.

"You bitch!" the knife appeared in his hand in a second and Ellaine groped for her own, mentally cursing as she realised it was still in her cabin. Things were about to go downhill and there was only one thing she could do now. She opened her mouth to scream and raise the alarm.

The floorboards behind her suddenly gave a sharp creak and without warning someone slammed into her from behind, forcing her against the wall. The new assailant seized a handful of her hair and slammed her head hard against the panels. Light exploded before Ellaine's eyes, a sharp pain flared in her nose and she felt the coppery taste of blood begin to trickle into her mouth. The hand tightened its grip on her hair and pulled her backwards before repeating the maneuver and slamming her head into the panels a second time. As Ellaine sagged against the wall her new assailant seized her by the shoulder's, holding her up as Bill lunged forward to drive his fist into her stomach and she doubled over in a haze of pain, gasping for air. Despite the pain she was dimly aware of Bill's voice, taut with a mixture of anger and anticipation.

"Hold er Harry, we've got a real wildcat here," Bill drew back a gloved fist and struck her again in the stomach, this time putting his weight behind the blow. Ellaine had to fight to avoid retching and would have fallen but for Harry's grip.

"Now lady, we're gonna teach you to...," his speech ended abruptly when Harry released their captive and gestured frantically over the other's shoulder.

"Bill, behind you!"

The warning came too late. Bill had just begun to turn when a pair of hands seized his wrist in a steely grip. The newcomer stepped behind Bill, twisting his arm up behind his back. Then the assailant's right hand was transferred to the mercenary's shoulder, pressed downwards sharply and its owner suddenly threw his weight sideways, dragging Bill's arm up further. There was a loud crack and Bill screamed in agony, the knife falling from his fingers.

Harry watched the unfolding spectacle in open disbelief. "You...son of a..." He released his hold on Ellaine and groped for his dagger, drawing the steel blade from its sheath and drawing it back, poised to strike. As he stepped forward the woman's elbow caught him in the kidney, sending him staggering. His opponent, seizing the chance, leapt forward and planted his right foot in the mercenary's belly. Harry went sprawling to the deck, landing hard at Henry's feet.

With a roar the last mercenary drew a knife and flew at the attacker, who simply sidestepped, grabbed Henry by the wrist and threw him against the wall, disarming the enraged drunkard with a swift strike to the wrist. Uttering another scream of rage Henry grabbed his opponent's wrist. In a move that she couldn't really follow Ellaine watched as Henry's opponent dropped his left hand over the mercenary's, rotated his right wrist and spun round, his back blocking the mercenary from view. The maneuver sent Henry tumbling head over heels into the wall. Upon striking this he fell back, his head struck the floor hard and he lay still.

Still gasping for breath Ellaine stared up at her unlooked for rescuer. Like the mercenaries this man had his face concealed under the shade of a wide brimmed hat, but she could see the dim light gleaming faintly on strands of distinctive long silvery hair.

"You?"

"Yes," taking her by surprise the elf offered his hand. After a moment's hesitation Ellaine took it, pulling herself back to her feet, clutching her nose with her other hand in an effort to staunch the bleeding. She made to withdraw her hand but she was still dizzy from the blows to the head and when the ship lurched again upon hitting a wave she fell heavily against him, her head coming to rest against his chest.

There was an awkward silence.

"What's going on out there?" Julia Ormorond looked out of her cabin door, her eyes widening as she took in the scene before her.

The door opposite her cabin opened and a small elderly man peered out warily, the light glinting on his drawn dagger, "I heard some commotion, what the..?" he too stared in surprise, then looked round as the sound of running feet reached everyone's ears.

Suddenly Heider appeared from below decks, followed by two sailors and one of his mercenaries. They paused at the sight that greeted them, the crowd behind them growing quickly in size. Ellaine swiftly pushed herself away from Joseph, hoping that he would not notice the blush that now tinged her cheeks. If he did he made no comment, instead reaching into the folds of his cloak and producing a grey handkerchief which he offered to her wordlessly. She accepted, clamping the cloth to her nose which was thankfully bleeding less.

From the deck hatchway several more figures descended, the familiar figure of the boatswain pushing his way to their front.

"What's going on here?"

Joseph merely gestured to the prostrate forms of the mercenaries, "I suggest you arrest these three and have them locked up."

Grunwald studied him warily, "on what charge?"

As always the elf's tone was smooth and devoid of all emotion, "for the assault upon and attempted rape of a passenger."

In the silence that followed they could have heard a pin drop.

"Is this true?" the boatswain looked to Ellaine for confirmation.

There was a moment's pause as she hesitated, reluctant to make her predicament known to everyone else on board, for that was what it would entail. Looking away her eyes suddenly locked with those of the elf. His normally cold expression was not evident, instead it had been replaced by...what was it she saw in his eyes-compassion, pity? Right now it was hard to put a name to it, but it crossed her mind that he was trying to convey something to her.

Whatever his look was meant to convey she felt her doubts vanish.

"Yes, that is what would have happened if this man had not intervened. I demand that these scum be punished for their actions."

"Tis a lie," Bill's voice was still laced with pain, "the bitch attacked us, same with that pointy-eared bastard!"

"That's true sir," Harry looked pleadingly at his commander, "twas only self-defence."

Heider's face radiated anything but reassurance. "Is that so? Tell me Harry, why did she attack you?"

"Well she...we..." Harry faltered under his commander's steely gaze.

"I see," Heider transferred his gaze to Grunwald, "will you take these men in hand bosun or shall I?"

"No need, I'll see to it," he made a simple hand gesture and several sailors moved forward.

"Ere," Harry struggled to his feet and began looking around for his dagger, "we'll not be chained up anywhere, you have no..."

Heider's voice cracked out like a whip. "Silence! Any more of your lip and I'll have the lot of you run through here and now. Vorcha!"

"Sir," his second in command stepped out of the crowd, the lower half of his face concealed, as always, by a black scarf.

"Go with these scum, if any of them try to escape kill them, is that clear!"

"Yes sir," Vorcha let his hand come to rest upon the hilt of his sword, as though to give further emphasis to his leader's threat.

There was sudden a commotion from the direction of the stern cabins and Louisa pushed her way through the crowd, eyes widening as she took in the scene before her.

"Mistress what... what happened?" Her gaze fell upon the mercenaries, taking in their bloodied appearance and discarded weapons. Her eyes narrowed as anger replaced surprise, "You..."

Joseph forestalled her, knowing that the last thing they needed right now was more trouble. "Everything is in hand miss, I suggest that you tend to your mistress and leave this matter to the boatswain."

The mercenaries had fallen silent now, apparently dumfounded by their leader's actions. Without a struggle they were manhandled away by the crew in the direction of the hold, Vorcha following them at a cautious distance.

"Right everyone the show's over so get back to your posts, come on move it!" Grunwald snapped his fingers and the crowd, seeing that the danger had been averted, quickly began to disperse, heading back to their quarters. Soon only Ellaine, Louisa, Joseph and Grunwald remained.

"I'll inform the captain tomorrow miss, you can rest assured this matter will be dealt with."

Ellaine took the handkerchief away from her nose, "thank you Mr. Grunwald. If you need me to testify I am quite prepared to do so."

"I'll let you know if we do miss," with that he headed away down the corridor, following the direction taken by the prisoners.

Joseph watched him go before turning to leave for the hatchway.

"Wait," Ellaine's voice pulled him up short. "I'm...grateful for your assistance tonight."

In reply he merely tapped an ear, "I was taking a stroll on deck when I heard the commotion. Thought I'd take a look, and it's just as well I did."

"Yes, just as well you did." Ellaine was a little taken aback at the return of his usual cold demeanor. She searched his eyes for the expression they had displayed mere moments ago, but found nothing, the iron shutters had dropped into place once again. Sighing inwardly she held out his handkerchief, "I think this is yours sir."

He glanced down at the stained cloth with a little distaste. "Keep it.," and without another word he was gone, disappearing through the hatchway.

The women watched him go, Louisa frowning in puzzlement. "I really don't understand that man mistress, why is he always so abrupt and rude to everyone?"

"I don't know Louisa, but he may well have saved my life tonight and for that I am now in his debt."

"Well we can worry about that later mistress; right now we need to get you cleaned up. You nose needs to be bathed and that's a nasty bump on your forehead." Holding onto her maid's arm Ellaine allowed herself to be led back to her cabin.

-AAA-

Back up on deck Joseph leaned out over the railing, watching the white spray of the sea down below, his mind busy mulling over the recent events. Punishment for the three offenders was inevitable, and likely to be severe, the captain could afford nothing less. That would of course stir up anger amongst the other mercenaries and further increase the tensions he had witnessed developing, a lot of which would probably now be directed at him. He would have to take greater care now.

"My life, it's never dull."

The sound of approaching feet pulled him from his reverie. Judging that there was only one man the elf did not turn, merely allowing his left hand to drift to the hilt of his knife. After a moment the newcomer leant onto the rail next to him. Glancing sideways he made out Heider's grizzled features in the moonlight. The man gave no greeting, instead merely staring at the dark horizon.

The silence continued for several minutes, with neither man seemingly willing to break it. Eventually it was the mercenary who spoke first.

"That was some performance you put on back there. It seems that at least one of my men is now unable to fight because of you-a broken arm by the looks of it."

"He had it coming, and if you're looking for an apology then you're going to be disappointed."

"Not in the least. I do not doubt the truth of your words, and you need not worry about reprisals. None of my men will try to make trouble for you; I give you my word on that."

"Much obliged"

Heider shrugged, "call it professional courtesy. My company has a set of rules it must follow and those three broke them. They will be punished for it." The mercenary captain took out a small toothpick and proceeded to pick at his teeth. In the moonlight Joseph was able to make out the man's yellowed dentures, each one carefully filed down to needlepoint.

_Hate to have that guys dental bills._

"I've been observing you elf. It seems that you know how to handle yourself. Would you mind if I asked if you are working right now."

"Like you I came aboard under contract. As long as I'm paid my duty is to this ship."

"And aside from that?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me, what would you say if I offered you a job?"

Some people would have questioned this surprise offer, have questioned why Heider should make one to a man who had just incapacitated two of his men, but Joseph was not suspicious. Like Heider he was a professional and knew it to be common practice for a mercenary captain to strengthen his command by recruiting other mercenaries when the opportunity arose. "Well first of all I'd ask you about the pay."

"The pay is good, we get a guaranteed wage and if we perform well there may be a bonus."

"And after that I'd ask you about the job."

"It's pretty straightforward. The client is one of the aristocrats in Miragliano; his family is locked in a feud with one of their local rivals and it seems that there have been some developments recently and things are becoming more difficult to handle. He wants to hire our services to...help maintain order as they say."

"Ah, the age old power struggle. Always been quite profitable as I seem to recall."

"Indeed, and this employment promises to be long term."

"Sounds like a good deal."

"Yes," there was a pause, "and you're not coming along?"

"No."

Heider nodded slowly, "I guess you have your reasons, and given recent events I can guess what they are." He pushed away from the railing. "But know that if you reconsider the offer still stands."

"Thank you."

The elf watched him leave. The offer had sounded good, but he knew that no matter how genuine Heider's promise might have been it would simply not be possible to join the war band. With tensions running high the offenders would now be itching to avenge tonight's humiliation and their comrades would most likely side with them. _Yet another opportunity slips you by, you fool._

Then he remembered the blood on Ellaine's face, the look in her eyes, and was suddenly glad that he had intervened.

Varus was furious when informed of what had happened and had both men severely punished the next day. With the ship's crew and their fellow marines assembled on deck each offender had received three dozen lashes, administered by Grunwald who had swung the cat-o-nine tails without an ounce of compassion.** To their credit none of the men cried out during the course of the flogging-pain was nothing new to warriors like them. Even Bill with his broken shoulder had managed to stifle all but a few cries. After the final lash had been struck they were quickly taken below to have their wounds treated.

Joseph observed the proceedings from the forecastle, watching as the knotted ropes had brought blood pouring from the wounds. As the punishment ended and the men fell in he noticed a number of the mercenaries casting dirty glances towards Varus where he stood on the quarterdeck. Personally he was uncertain about the wisdom of this punishment. It was meant to serve as a warning, but all it would really achieve would be to stir up more anger amongst the offenders. They were after all accustomed to the full horrors of war and a meager few lashes would make very little impression upon such hardened men.

Two of the marines lingered on deck, glaring up at the elf. Joseph met and held their gazes until both men looked away. Despite Heider's promise he knew that the offender's comrades were unlikely to allow the actions of the previous night to pass. He would have to watch his back from now on, and right now this was one problem he could do without.

There were no further acts of violence after that but the growing resentment of the marines was now clear for all to see. Varus had considered asking the _Capella's _captain to send some men across to replace their marines, but both Selby and Grunwald had advised him against this, for despite their unruly behavior the marines were still under control and such an act might only provoke further violence.

For now at least an uneasy silence descended upon the ship, with the thoughts of those on board turning steadily from the threat within to the threat without.

-AAA-

_**The Morning of the Eleventh Day**_

It was on the morning of the eleventh day that they finally parted company with the _Capella_. The previous day they had passed through the patch of ocean that was bordered by the Fool's Point Rocks on one side and the port of Sartossa on the other. With the threat of pirates now at its strongest both ships hugged the coastline of the Fool's Point Rocks, doing their utmost to keep out of sight. Twice a strange sail was sighted but in both cases the mysterious vessel soon disappeared from sight.

Their fears of detection seemed to have proved groundless and with Miragliano now only three days distant and encouraged by the uneventful voyage the galleon's captain was keen to return to Magritta. That morning Varus had himself rowed across to the warship to meet with him. The meeting did not go as well as he had hoped-the warships captain had escorted them past the most dangerous point of their journey and, his mission from the governor fulfilled, was now more anxious to get back to Estalia. When told about the troubles on board ship he had simply dismissed them as behavior typical of a bunch of hired rabble.

"You recruited them captain, it says a lot about your style of command if you cannot keep control of your own men."

Varus had returned to his ship in an ugly mood, ignoring Selby's questioning look and going straight below decks. Guessing the outcome the Master had swiftly ordered all sails save the topsails hoisted. He intended to cover as much distance as possible before nightfall and the faster they went the sooner they would reach port.

Those aboard watched the departure of the galleon with heavy hearts, the knowledge that they were now alone in a dangerous stretch of water slowly sinking in.

Richard watched her leave before making his way to the forecastle where he commenced splicing a length of rope with his marlinspike. Like the others he was seeking to escape the newfound tension by immersing himself in his work. Said tension was high now, the captain having posted extra lookouts and the men on the quarterdeck continually training their glasses out to sea. Grunwald meanwhile, knowing that the crew was best kept occupied, had ordered all men to action, assigning various duties from sail-making to scrubbing the decks.

It was a wise precaution in his opinion. Although he had never encountered the pirates before Richard had heard plenty of stories about them, stories circulated by writers from as far afield as the Empire and Bretonnia who had visited the infamous port and had published reports of their findings. Based within the port of Sartossa from which they took their name, the pirates were known to live in a fairly free and equal society. Each captain held a roughly equal level of power, although as in all societies there was a hierarchical structure. The rule of law was harshly administered and punishments for offenders were severe. The port itself formed the centre of their power base and was ruled by a council of twelve, made up of the most powerful and successful pirates. It was their responsibility to choose from their number the one who would become the next pirate king, the one who would hold absolute authority over Sartossa. Competition for this position was fierce; although bloodshed rarely broke out save in duels between contesting captains. A preferred method was bribery and displays of wealth which often drove the candidates to increasingly audacious acts in order to procure the wealth they required to ensure victory. Not all of the captains were interested in this position but a pirate captain was elected by his or her crew and the thirst for wealth still drove them across all areas of the sea in search of prey, for a captain who failed to deliver might easily find himself on the wrong end of a rope or reduced to scrubbing the ship's decks once again.

This had increased the danger for the merchantmen that had to sail through the area. If a pirate ship appeared on the horizon and the merchantman did not have the cover of darkness in which to lose them then they were unlikely to escape. Generally the pirates made use of many different captured vessels, ranging from schooners to galleons, but recently another design had begun the find favour amongst them-the galley.

Used since ancient times, the galleys had fallen out of use with the advent of the much larger galleon, their only official role being now to act as harbour and coastal patrol vessels. A galley was a low built vessel powered by upwards of fifty oars with between one and three sails. Fast and sleek, their oars allowed them to remain active in a flat calm and they were easily capable of outmaneuvering the more cumbersome galleons. Although unsuited to the harsh conditions of the ocean they were still useable within the Tilean Sea and following some initial successes the pirates were now reintroducing them.

The crew of a captured ship would face an unpleasant fate. The more fortunate, generally the fittest of the company, might be invited to join the pirates but most of them would either be taken to the slave markets to be auctioned off to passing slavers or would end up chained to the oars of the pirate galleys. Poorly fed and beaten repeatedly by the overseers, few who went into the galleys ever came out again.

He cursed as the spike slipped and caught his thumb, sticking the injured digit in his mouth for a moment. _Damn it all! _Two of the marines walked past at that moment, grinning at his apparent discomfort. They ignored his glare and strode away, exchanging casual conversation.

_I wonder what the hell they're so happy about_.

Up on the quarterdeck Varus trained his spy glass out to sea for the umpteenth time, his thoughts matching those of the crewman on the forecastle. Like all sailors he dreaded the possibility of encountering a pirate vessel and the fact that they had only two days remaining before reaching Miragliano did nothing to ease his worries. Slow and ponderous, this ship was an easy target and the cargo they carried would fetch a fair price on the market. They're brief stay in Magritta had enabled him to take aboard the cargo arranged by the ship's owners and in addition to the wine and leather brought from the Empire the ship's holds were now loaded with several tones of tin from the Estalian kingdoms.

As if this was not enough the patch rigged over the stern by the dockyard workers had sprung several leaks during the storm and it had taken nearly an hour to patch up the damage, during which time sea water had entered the cabin and soaked all his belongings.

He snapped his glass shut. "Mr. Grunwald, get the topsails unfurled now, and look lively there." Right now any extra speed they could coax from this old tub would be welcome.

OOC: * I may have mentioned this before, but no one ever ran away to sea because they wanted to eat well. Hard tack, another staple part of a sailor's diet, was a rather tasteless biscuit made from flour and water. After a few weeks at sea these would usually be infested with weevil maggots which flourished in the damp atmosphere. Not surprisingly many people preferred to eat these in the dark (I wonder if this might constitute cruelty to weevils).

OOC: ** Also known as 'the cat', the Cat-O-Nine Tails is a whipping device with a number of cords, its primary function being to administer punishments in the army and the navy. Variations existed across history, with different materials and different numbers of cords being used, but the one referred to in this chapter is based upon the naval version, which was made of rope and could only be used with the captain's permission. It weighed 13 ounces and had a handle with nine cords, each one of which was knotted at the end. The thieves' cat was knotted three times on each cord to cause additional pain, thievery being considered a particularly serious crime. The name 'cat' may have derived from the fact that the cords inflicted parallel wounds when used. When men were flogged for crimes on board ship the rest of the company were assembled on deck to witness punishment. (For a full description see Wikipedia, the free online encyclopaedia).

OOC: The conversation between Joseph and Heider is inspired by a conversation from the John Wayne film _Eldorado_, where the film's hero and his antagonist engage in a similar conversation.

TBC


	18. Sail to Starboard!

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. Also in case anyone has missed it, chapter 17 has been heavily re-written, please check it out.

The rest of the day passed slowly, with those on board trying to occupy their attention as best they could, the crew playing various games in their spare time and the passengers socializing with one another, exchanging pleasantries and discussing plans of what they intended to do when they finally reached port. The general restlessness remained present, but with the port of Sartosa now behind them everyone was feeling more at ease. Happiest of all were the marines, who when not practicing their drills could usually be found lounging about below decks drinking and singing heartily. The _Vulture's_ crew had been vigilant since the flogging but there had been no further signs of trouble.

Indeed even Joseph was surprised at the new found jovialness that seemed to have suddenly gripped the marines during the last twenty four hours-there was no rational explanation for it and that caused him no small amount of concern. But no one else seemed to be worried so he dismissed his fears as groundless.

He cocked his ear at the sound of footsteps mounting the forecastle ladder behind him. The sharp rap indicated soled shoes, so either a passenger or marine. Too light to be one of the latter-it must be one of the women

"I never thanked you properly."

Joseph did not turn around, "excuse me?"

Ellaine moved to stand beside him, her hands resting on the rail, "the other night, I never thanked you for coming to my aid."

"Oh that, think nothing of it."

"What do you mean 'think nothing of it' sir? When I think about what those men planned to do…" she was silent for a moment before continuing, "…well it seems that I'm in your debt."

"No you're not; I told you before I am paid to keep order on this ship, you me nothing."

"Oh," Elaine felt a stab of disappointment, though for what reason she did not know, "well thank you anyway. You have my gratitude."

"Thank you."

A silence descended, lasting several minutes. Their long hair blew out, silver and brown tresses mingling in the breeze. Above the scent of the sea Joseph could smell the faint scent of the woman's perfume, a pleasant change to the usual shipboard smells. Eventually he broke the silence.

"Was there something else that you wanted?"

Ellaine let out a gentle sigh. As always her attempts at conversation seemed destined to meet with failure. There seemed to be nothing she could say or do to persuade this reserved man to say more than three words to her in a single sentence.

Still, now that she thought about it there was something else she had wanted to talk to him about.

"I was wondering…well the other night."

"Yes."

"Well I've gone over that fight several times in my mind and I'm curious, the way that you disarmed the last mercenary and threw him head over heels against the wall. I don't think I've ever seen such a move, how did you do that?"

"Which move was that?"

"When you grabbed his wrist, I couldn't follow what you did, but I'd like to know."

Now Joseph turned to face her, his eyes meeting hers. "Why do you want to know?"

"I suppose because I've always been interested in learning about new combat moves, and I have never seen one like that before."

Now his curiosity was piqued, "combat moves?"

Ellaine held back a grin, this was familiar ground, "it may surprise you but I happen to have an interest in matters other than embroidery and elaborate dresses. I can fight."

"Yes I rather gathered that you could fight, I noticed that those drunken fools didn't seem to have had it all their own way before I arrived. Still, I will admit that I'm curious as to what a Bretonnian woman of obvious noble blood would be doing brawling like a street ruffian."

"What…" by now Ellaine was used to his abrupt nature but this was ridiculous. After all it had been a simple request. "Look I'm just curious. Please, will you just show me?"

For a moment Joseph simply stared at her, before slowly extending his right arm, "take hold of my arm."

Ellaine did as she was told, grabbing his wrist with both hands. Joseph brought his left hand up to cover her right one, effectively pinning it in place against his right arm. With a deft movement he straightened the fingers of his right hand, rotated his wrist in a circle to the left and locked his fingers up over her arm. Seconds later he turned sideways on to her, dipped his right elbow and pulled his hand upwards, twisting her arm sharply as he did so. His grip was like a vice and even though Ellaine had been expecting it the resulting pressure still forced a gasp of pain from her lips.

Joseph immediately released his hold and Ellaine sagged against the railing, gripping her wrist in pain.

"Sorry, I did not mean to twist it that hard."

"Oh really!"

"What's going on here?"

Joseph glanced up as Grunwald ascended the ladder, "nothing to worry about boatswain, I'm simply giving the lady a few lessons."

"A few lessons," Grunwald gave Ellaine a suspicious glance, "and what pray tell would those lessons involve?"

Still massaging her arm Ellaine hastened to reassure him, "it's okay Mr. Grunwald, I asked him to show me this. I promise that it's nothing you need to worry about."

Grunwald looked from one to the other, uncertainty evident on his features, "well at least try not to hurt each other, I've got enough things to worry about as it is."

"No harm will come to her boatswain, I promise."

"Very well then," with that Grunwald took his leave and Ellaine turned to glare at the elf.

"You could have warned me!"

Joseph shrugged, "look if you remember the pain then you'll remember the technique better. You wanted me to teach you that move so don't complain so much."

Ellaine narrowed her eyes dangerously, "could I try it? After all practice does make perfect"

"Sure, hold out your arm."

This time Joseph gripped Ellaine's right arm, issuing instructions as she rotated her right hand around to lock his own arm into position. She was surprised to find out just how little effort it actually required.

"Like this."

"Yes," she detected the grimace in his voice with some satisfaction.

"And now if I…", now Ellaine turned herself sideways to him and dipped her elbow, but unlike Joseph she did not stop at this. Instead she carried the movement through in full, tipping the elf off balance and sending him sprawling onto the deck in a heap.

"…do that. Is that the correct technique?"

Joseph glared up at her, "very good," he hissed, picked himself up and flexing his arm experimentally, "a little too good in fact. Are you sure that you haven't done that before?"

Ellaine smiled sweetly, "I swear to you I never knew about it until I saw you use it."

Joseph stared at her for a moment, and then to her surprise he smiled, the first really genuine smile she had ever seen him display.

"Nobody likes a smartarse my lady," he turned to go, "and well done. I certainly underestimated you."

"You know you should smile more Mr. Joseph; it looks good when you do?"

"Thank you".

Ellaine watched him go, feeling rather pleased with herself at having finally held a decent conversation with the mercenary.

-AAA-

Dusk was beginning to descend when the lookout's call drew everyone's attention, "deck there, sail to starboard!"

Every glass on deck was immediately trained on the horizon but the vessel proved to be too far away to be seen from the deck. After sending a messenger to inform the captain Selby decided to check this stranger out for himself. Tucking the spyglass into his coat pocket the mate swung himself out onto the rigging and began to climb towards the crow's nest. As he went Selby was mindful not to look down, preferring not to be reminded of the drop until he had a more secure footing.

Once he had reached the top the lookout-a burly middle-aged man named Holger-leaned over and hauled him up the remaining few feet. "Out there sir," he gestured towards the south-east, "she's just on the horizon and seems to be closing."

Selby steadied his glass, locating the strange vessel after a moment. At this distance it was impossible to make out much in the way of detail. She was smaller than the _Vulture_ and seemed be set fairly low in the water. He grimaced when he studied the vessel's sail-plan; it had two lateen rigged masts. "Keep an eye on her, as soon as you can identify her I want to know."

"Yes sir," Holger saluted and Selby swiftly scrambled down the rigging.

Varus was waiting for him on the poop deck. "Make your report Mr. Selby."

"Single sail to starboard sir, no visual recognition as yet," he glanced around at those nearby and lowered his voice, "low-hulled and she has a lateen rig with two sails."

Varus met his eyes, his face grim. Both men knew what this might mean. "If she is one of them sir?"

"Then there is little we can do at present Mr. Selby. Keep it quiet for now, but we'll maintain our current course, no need to make this fellow suspicious. Just in case though I'll have the bosun organize a weapons drill and get the bolt thrower checked."

Selby nodded in agreement. Right now their best course of action was to do nothing until nightfall. The cover of darkness would be their best ally if things took a turn for the worse.

-AAA-

As usual the order to keep things quiet was proved pointless and soon everyone knew about the sail to starboard. It had been confirmed as a twin-masted vessel, most likely a galley, and was currently keeping its distance, neither falling away from them nor attempting to draw in closer. Curious passengers milled around on deck but their questions were brushed aside, for Varus was wary of spreading alarm. Instead he contented himself with having the _Vulture _hug the coastline whilst Grunwald made an inspection of the crew's weapons and replaced the drawstring of the bolt thrower with a fresh one. At an unspoken signal from the captain several new bolts were brought on deck and the cook was instructed to keep his galley fire lit until further notice. If the strange vessel tried anything untoward it would get an unpleasant surprise.

-AAA-

As it turned out the ship did not try to close with them, but simply stayed with them throughout the remainder of the day, always maintaining the same position. To the sailors this suggested more than a simple coincidence-it was clear this vessel had an interest in them and for now was playing the role of stalker-presumably in an effort to assess their strengths and weaknesses.

When darkness finally closed in Varus ordered Selby to maintain their current course for exactly one hour, after which he was to beat out to sea on as far a southerly course as the wind would permit. Once they had covered a satisfactory distance they would then steer due north east. On this night the moon was largely obscured by clouds and they were hopeful that with a bit of luck the maneuver would throw the strange sail off their trail.

-AAA-

It was almost midnight when Richard Armittage finished his watch and retired for the night. It had been a long day and he was keen to snatch some sleep in preparation for tomorrow. His thoughts drifted briefly to Louisa and he found himself wandering what he was going to do when the ship reached port. It had originally been his intention to return with the _Vulture_ once she had completed repairs, perhaps making his way back to the Empire, for by now things might have died down sufficiently for him to return. Once he returned he could perhaps set about trying to locate other members of the order, for despite what Pyromancer had advised him Richard still clung to the hope that some of the others had survived.

But lately the situation had changed, he had met Louisa. He did not know exactly what it was he felt for the young Bretonnian; all he knew was that he was no longer looking forward to their imminent arrival in port, knowing that it would mean she would leave the ship-and him-behind. He decided to speak to Grunwald tomorrow; perhaps the older man would be able to advise him in this matter.

This was as far as Richard's train of thought got, because as he came to the end of the corridor someone hit him across the back of the head. He staggered and fell, darkness swallowing him.

-AAA-

Atcher stared down at the fallen man, quickly discarding the cudgel he had used to administer the blow. _Well Mr. Armittage, I'd say this makes us about even. Too bad for you it won't stay that way._

"Alright Boris bring him this way, and for Sigmar's sake be quiet about it."

"Yes sir, although if I may be so bold, why don't we just cut his throat first and have done with it."

"It would spill too much blood, and that of course would arouse suspicions. If we do this properly then no one will notice he's gone until tomorrow, and after that it will be too late. Now are you certain about those rumors you heard?"

"Yes sir, I cannot confirm whether they are actually true but I know what I heard. This one was the closest to that blast when the serpent was driven off and there are rumors circulating about the man he stayed with back in Magritta, definitely rumors of the dark nature."

"I see," Atcher stroked his chin thoughtfully, "well I'll not take any chances, and if he is one of those then we cannot risk his interference. Bring him quickly, we'll use the forward hatchway, if memory serves then that part of the deck should be deserted at this hour. And don't forget the rope, we can't risk a splash."

"Yes boss," grunting with the effort the Kisletive gathered up the unconscious sailor and followed his master down the corridor.

-AAA-

The breeze had strengthened considerably during the night, driving the waves before it as it tore across the sea. Atcher gently pushed open the hatchway, cursing inwardly as the rusting hinges gave a loud squeak, the sound echoing like a rope snapping in a high wind. Unlike the hatches on the main deck this one was largely disused and, judging by the struggle he'd faced forcing it open, probably had not been used in months. He could guess why-it was only just large enough for two men to squeeze through and its position, tucked into the starboard side of the forecastle, was not well placed for loading. Why it had been placed here at all was a mystery.

On the other hand it was fairly well-concealed and as long as they were quiet it would suit tonight's purpose nicely.

The nobleman continued to ease the hatchway open, moving more slowly this time to avoid the giveaway squeak. Cautiously he stuck his head out and looked around, his eyes scanning the shadows, ready to duck back down the second he was seen. But no challenge was raised and with a sigh of relief he turned to help Boris haul the unconscious Armittage into the open. They kept below the parapet, mindful of exposing their silhouettes-the moon might be hidden by clouds but there was still enough light to be seen by.

"Coast is clear, quickly tie his feet and let's get this over with."

Boris reached for the rope but had no chance to use it, for a thunderous voice suddenly froze both men in their tracks.

"You there, stand to! Don't move."

Three figures appeared on the forecastle, and before he had a chance to react Atcher found himself staring into the boatswain's eyes. The dim light played across the man's face, enhancing its grizzled appearance as he took in the scene before him, noting in particular the unconscious form of Richard Armittage and the length of rope held in Boris's hands.

"Well now, what do we have here? Taking an evening stroll were we gentlemen?"

"In a manner of speaking Grunwald," Atcher's voice was calm and clipped, betraying none of the panic he was beginning to feel, "we found your man unconscious below decks, thought maybe some night air would perk him up."

"Really, well you certainly chose an interesting route-why did you not just bring him up through the main hatch." Grunwald was no fool and it was clear to him that something more sinister had been about to happen.

"Because this one was closer and I did not think you would mind, seeing as we were trying to do you a favor."

"Oh that was very considerate of you, but I think we can manage from here now so kindly bugger off."

"As you wish boatswain," in a voice that could have been called anything but pleasant Atcher brushed past him, Boris following in his footsteps. Once they were out of earshot Grunwald gestured to the third sailor, "pass the word to Mr. Selby-I want those two watched from now on, until we reach port they are not to be let out of sight."

"Aye aye sir," the man turned and hurried away.

Sinjun watched him leave. "You let that slide rather easily Archie."

"I know," Grunwald bent to check the fallen man for a pulse, relieved to find a strong one. "But there was nothing else I could do. Suspicions alone will not be enough to chain those two up."

"I suppose your right; still I agree that we had best keep an eye on them. What do you suppose they wanted with this one?"

"I don't know mate, but perhaps he can tell us once he comes to. Come on, let's get him below decks and get the surgeon to check him out."

Hauling the unconscious Armittage onto his feet the two of them descended down the open hatch. Sinjun paused to close the lid behind them, leaving the forecastle deserted and silent once more.

-AAA-

TBC


	19. Theft in the Night

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefit from writing this story.

OOC: Hello everyone-sorry about the long wait. I've been rather pre-occupied lately with painting an Empire army-currently its cavalry which takes a long time. Well I present the next chapter in this tale-I hope it makes the grade of previous chapters. My thanks to blackderbyjacket and pacificuser for your reviews and to Setrus for his review of Attack on the White Hart (sorry it kept you up until 1:00 :)

"And you suspect that they were going to send him over the side?"

Sitting at a table that had been folded out from the wall of the main-deck, Geoff Terps listened with interest to the tale being recounted to him by Seaman Bill Baxter. The elderly man fought to hide his growing interest as the sailor recounted the incident that had occurred above decks some two hours earlier. Seated opposite him Baxter took a long swig of rum and belched loudly, much to the trader's irritation, before continuing with his narration.

"Without a doubt, I mean I reckon that's what the bosun thought. He didn't say as much out there but I can tell."

"And how is this man now?"

"Oh he had a nasty bang on the head but I reckon he'll be allright, which should help put his sweetheart's worries at rest."

The trader's face took on a puzzled expression, "his sweetheart?"

"Aye, the maid of that young Bretonnian woman, he denies it of course but they've been getting pretty close recently. Personally I reckon that's why he got so angry when he caught Atcher roughing her up. Now that man Atcher's a bad egg if ever I saw one and I reckon he's got something against Richard."

"Something against him, why should that be? I mean no disrespect to you seamen but this man is an aristocrat, and from what I hear one of fairly good status. Why should he be so concerned with the actions of one lowly sailor?"

"Oh none taken mate but me thinks I have an idea." He took another swig of the almost empty tankard, "it seems that he had some kind of altercation with young Richard just before we docked at Magritta. Apparently the young dandy tried his luck with that noblewoman and Richard sorted him out. The young buggers had it in for him ever since then."

"Understandable I suppose, but even so murder seems a bit extreme for something as minor as that, especially when still on board ship. It would make more sense to have him eliminated whilst ashore-I'd imagine there would be less chance of interference that way."

"Aye I hadn't thought of that but I can see your point," seaman Chapman Garley, seated next to Baxter, took a swig from his own tankard. "Rumor has it that he already tried that. Back there in Magritta Richard was attacked in the port. Probably would have been dead but for someone rescuing him, odd thing is he doesn't know who did it."

"Did what, attacked him or rescued him?"

"Both."

"Well that's strange alright, and I suppose you suspect that this man Atcher was trying to dispose of him."

"Has to be, there ain't no one else aboard whom I can think would want him dead. Poor fellow just seems to have a habit of attracting trouble."

"Bad luck magnet indeed," Baxter nodded in agreement, "but then he's always been more withdrawn than the rest of us. Personally I think he might be on the run from something, maybe some sort of trouble from back home."

"It has been my understanding that many men have turned to a career at sea to escape from troubles in their lives ashore."

"True enough mate, I reckon he's one of them alright. I remember when he first came on board-he was in quite a hurry to leave and once on board it took a long time before he started mixing with the rest of us. Now I'll wager he's hiding something. Why only just before he joined he asked me if this ship had been involved in transporting any imperial soldiers or officials, seemed rather relieved when he found that it hadn't."

Terps leaned forward abruptly, his interest definitely peaked. "Really, do go on."

But before Baxter was able to elaborate further the attention of the three men was drawn by a loud clatter from the corridor near the foredeck cabins. "What the devil?"

The answer came when two figures emerged from the shadows, dressed in the worn dull leather armour of the marines. Both men were clearly the worse for drink, a fact evidenced both by their unsteady gait and by the empty tankard the nearest one held. "Evenin ladz...any chance of a drink?" one of them slurred out in greeting.

The sailors, by now equally the worse for drink and increasingly uneasy about the growing tensions within their ship, their home, felt in no mood to be friendly. Baxter was the first to reply. "Well well, looks like we've got ourselves some eavesdroppers here. Don't you lot know how to keep your noses out other people's business! This is a private conversation."

"I'll stick my nose in wherever I bloody well like mate," the taller and more tipsy of the two snapped back angrily, "anyway you know that nothing stays secret in this place. We're always hearing you lot gibbering away about everything like a bunch of old women."

"Nonetheless this is a private matter mate, and we'd be thankful if you'd just mind your own bloody business and bugger off!" Baxter's tone now held considerably more anger than before.

"Ha, you know Henry," the marine turned to address his companion, "one would think this lot would show us a bit more gratitude. After all we are here to protect em are we not, at the risk of our own bloody lives no less?"

"Indeed we are."

Garley glared at him in anger, one hand drifting almost imperceptibly towards his dagger, "we never said your help was needed ere mate. As I recall all you lot ave ever done around her is drink our rum and cause trouble. One of our own is with the surgeon right now, where the bloody hell was your so called protection then!"

"You won't be saying that if we run into another kind of trouble tomorrow mate. If that little ship we're running from turns out to be a corsair then you'll be very glad to have us on board-or perhaps you'd rather just take your chances with the pirates and end up in a slave galley."

"We'll lose that bugger in the night, an there's no reason to think that it's a pirate ship out there."

The marine threw back his head and brayed loudly, "Manaan's balls but you lot really make me laugh! All this time on the sea lanes and you stupid imbeciles aren't even capable of recognizing a…"

"That's enough!"

All eyes turned to the source of the new voice that assailed their ears. Vorcha, his face, as always, wrapped in a black scarf, strode up from the direction of the quarterdeck and marched over to stand face-to-face with both marines. "The commander has given strict orders that you are not to make trouble. Get back to your quarters at once, and you will both lay off the booze till further notice!"

Both marines blanched visibly at this, the taller one finally opening his mouth the protest, "but sir…"

The protest died in his throat as Vorcha's fist struck him hard in the belly, bringing the marine to his knees. "Take that fool below now!"

The second marine was not so drunk as to be unable to see the danger he was now in. Wordlessly he hauled his comrade up and dragged him back to the hatchway. Without so much as a glance at the sailors, the marine officer picked up the fallen tankard and moved after them, muttering irritably under his breath.

Garley sighed warily once the sound of the footsteps had faded away, "I don't like that lot. I swear that if we don't get into port soon there'll be more than just angry insults being traded between us and that's no error."

"My advice would be not to let it trouble you," a pragmatist to the core, Terps could see that the sailors were still angry at the exchange and needed calming before they were able to work themselves up again and cause more trouble. "This ship should dock shortly and your captain can then eject all of them ashore. All you need to do is tolerate them for a few more days and that will be it."

Bill nodded, "aye I suppose you're right about that."

"Mmhmm," Terps paused to tip a measure of rum into the sailor's nearly empty tankard, "now getting back to what we were talking about earlier, may I ask what makes you think that this Armittage fellow might be hiding something?"

"Well you see on occasion I've heard him talking in his sleep, muttering things that I don't understand-strange words like…" here Garley hesitated as he struggled to recall the words in question, "Pyromancer, Pacificuser…very strange words. I've asked him about it but he always clamps up whenever I do, won't say a word. Also keeps mumbling about fire and a secret…something. Don't understand it myself, never makes any sense."

"Yeah and not to mention that on one or two occasions we've seen strange…I don't know, strange lights glowing in parts of the ship where he's been working. They always disappear when anyone goes near em. I'm telling ya there's something not right about that man."

Terps nodded slowly, "I see-well thank you for the drink gentlemen. I think I will turn in for the night."

"Aye, well I'll see ya tomorrow mate."

"Indeed." The trader clambered up from his stool and made his way back to his cabin. Inserting a key he entered and locked the door. Removing the coat he had donned for warmth-for even inside the ship the cool evening air could be easily felt-he removed a set of papers from his satchel, took out a quill and a bottle of ink and began to write.

_Now this is an interesting development to be sure._

-AAA-

This event went unnoticed by the men on the quarterdeck who were currently pre-occupied with more pressing matters. They had executed the turn away from the cliff some forty minutes previously and now those who were not currently occupied with sailing the ship had their glasses trained to port, where they hoped the strange sail would be right now. The twin moons were currently hidden by the clouds, a fact that would give them a greater chance of avoiding detection in the darkness, but one that also made it nearly impossible to pick out the other sail at this distance.

_At least now we might have a chance of slipping away_. With a final glance Varus handed his spyglass to Selby before leaving the bridge with the words "if ever in the slightest degree doubtful let me know."

Hugging his cloak around himself against the breeze the captain swiftly descended the steps to the shelter of the hatchway. Once out of the wind he moved down the corridor to his own cabin, turning the key in the lock and hurrying inside.

The first thing that hit him upon entry was the breeze that was wafting around the cabin. With only a few sheets of canvas blocking off the rear of the ship he was fully expecting it to be cold, but even so the wind should not be getting through like this. Fumbling blindly in the darkness Varus eventually located the lantern and flints he kept on a shelf by the doorway. After several tries he managed to light the candle, cursing as he caught his fingers on the second strike. Once alight the flame cast a faint glow over the cabin. As he moved forward Varus found his gaze drawn to the pile of papers he had left on the desk, the same set of papers that now lay scattered across the floor, the weight that had been used to anchor them to the table having apparently been shifted aside at some point. The opening through which the breeze was able to enter was not hard to find-at a patch in the starboard part of the stern window he located a large gash several feet in length. From both the straightness of the cut and the lack of torn fibers around it there could be no doubt that this gash had not been torn open by any gust of wind or by a high wave-someone had cut their way in here after he had last left the cabin

Varus drew his sword, eyes scanning the shadows. Holding the lantern before him he kicked open the door to the chartroom and entered, the blade held before him. A quick search revealed nothing, whoever had been here was now long gone. Exiting the cabin and locking the door behind him, the captain hastened back to the quarterdeck to get help.

-AAA-

Ellaine glanced up at the sound of running feet along the corridor. Though curious she chose not to investigate and returned her attention to the figure in the cot beside her. Louisa lay wrapped in several blankets, her head propped up on a pillow. With a gentle tug she fastened the bandage and cut away the loose end with her dagger. Finally satisfied with her work she pulled Louisa's gown back up over the bandaged section of her collar bone. The maid gazed up at her weakly, straining to keep her eyes open. "Is there trouble mistress?"

Ellaine laid a reassuring hand on her forehead, "it is nothing to worry about I'm sure. Now you need to get some rest Louisa. I can't think what it is that has done this to you but you won't do any good by straining yourself. I'm sure that Richard would tell you the same."

Her maid offered her a weak smile in reply, "he already did I'm afraid, when he came by to see me earlier today."

"And what did he say about those marks, did he have any suggestions as to their cause?"

"I did not tell him mistress," she looked away briefly as Ellaine frowned, a pained expression crossing her features, "he seems to have a lot on his mind and…I did not want to worry him."

"I see. You two do seem to be getting closer."

She was only slightly surprised that Louisa did not try to deny this, "Yes we are mistress. I enjoy his company and I believe he does care for me."

Ellaine smiled, "I'm sure he does, but would you marry him-that is the question you should be asking yourself you know."

"I know that, and I do like him a lot it's just that he never…"

"Would you like me to speak with him, perhaps I can find out his intentions."

"No mistress, I know that you are only looking out for me but I think that this is a matter I need to deal with myself."

"I will of course respect your wishes, but I want you to promise me that you will tread carefully in this matter."

"I will, I can promise you that much."

"Well I suppose that's all I can ask, now please do try and get some sleep." With that she reached over and snuffed out the candle, lifted the blankets and climbed into her own cot, trying to shut out the sounds of the pounding surf and the occasional clatter from within the ship when some object had worked loose in the swell and was rolling around the decks until it was secured back into place. Gradually she managed to tune out the intruding sounds and turned her thoughts to her latest concern.

Louisa's condition had left her completely mystified. It had begun some eight days previously when she had found her in their cabin looking paler than usual and complaining of a headache. At first she had assumed that it was simply a case of resurging seasickness, for the two of them had been heavily afflicted with the condition during their first week of leaving Bretonnia. However as the days passed and Louisa had failed to show any signs of improvement her concern began to deepen. Despite taking plenty of rest and eating regular meals the young maid had remained within their cabin, her skin taking on an increasingly pale color and her strength slowly fading.

And now there was the discovery of these strange marks, marks which had alarmed the young noblewoman greatly. She had first noticed them the previous night whilst helping Louisa change following a brief stroll on deck-two small red marks located low on her left shoulder above the collar bone. From what she could see they appeared to be some kind of bite mark, twin punctures seemingly made by teeth, although she could not think what might have caused them-the bite was too narrow and…'clean'…to be from a rat and too large to be from an insect. It was clear that something strange was going on here and after giving the matter some careful thought Ellaine had decided that come the morrow she would speak to the captain about this matter.

She glanced at her sword which now lay propped against the desk by the cot and her hand strayed to the dagger under her pillow, her fingers running over the rough hilt. She glanced at the chair that had been wedged against the door for additional security. If the cause of those marks did somehow enter the cabin tonight then it would get an unpleasant surprise.

It was a long time before sleep finally claimed her.

-AAA-

Further down the corridor in his cabin Atcher penned the final words to his letter, sealed the parchment and placed it in his traveler's sack. With a wary glance at the cabin door he took out the small mirror and tapped the platinum stone set into its hilt. After a few minutes wait his reflection in the glass faded to be replaced by the image of another man.

"The time has come, get your men ready."

-AAA-

Grunwald poked his head out through the gap in the sailcloth, twisting round to glance up at the stern before looking around to each side of the hole. It was conceivable that someone could have entered and exited by this means, using the more ornate woodwork that decorated the stern to provide foot and hand-holds. Still it would have required a skillful climber to have accomplished such a feat, especially in this rough sea. After failing to spot anything that might supply a clue to the mystery he ducked back in and turned to the two sailors he had summoned when the alarm had been raised.

"See if you can get that hole stitched up, I don't think the captain will appreciate having to sleep in this chill." As they hurried to do his bidding the bosun moved over to the desk and pulled up a chair. He did not have long to wait as Varus emerged from the chart room some two minutes later.

"Is there anything missing sir?"

"It's strange Mr. Grunwald; I would say that whoever was in here has been through everything. They did a pretty clean job as well-everything seems to have been placed back where it should be and all the locks have been refastened. You will however recall that I removed a certain object one of those crates we took from the _Marienburg._"

"Yes sir, the one we intended to hand over to Father Holger when we collect him at Miragliano?"

"That's the one. Well the intruder, or perhaps intruders seeing as we do not know how many there were, have removed it. They also went through all my valuables but not a single one was removed, whoever it was certainly took pains to avoid the theft being noticed."

"Hmm…that is strange sir. Who else knew you had it?"

"To my knowledge only ourselves and Mr. Selby," as he spoke the captain withdrew a glass decanter from his drinks cabinet and poured a small measure into two glasses, one of which he passed to the boatswain. Grunwald downed his glass in one swig, feeling the spirit sear his throat. The captain sipped at his own glass, preferring not to rush his drinking. "You two can go for now, that canvas will keep until tomorrow." At his command the sailors gathered up their tools and hastened away, their watch had ended half an hour previously and both men were now eager to get some much needed sleep.

"Unfortunately it seems that I was not as careful as I believed, someone must have seen me."

"Seems that way sir, but what bothers me is why they would want to steal that stone-I mean you and I did not open the box until we entered your cabin and no one else could have seen it. And why steal that item and yet leave the other valuables untouched."

"Yes, and yet whoever entered here must have known what it was-it is true that a common thief would hardly have discarded the silver in here in favor of a mere stone."

"With respect sir, that stone was engraved an eight point star-I know that sign, it is the sign of Chaos. I hardly think we can describe the theft of such an object as 'mere'. What is more if someone came in looking for it then I think we can safely assume that they were up to no good."

"You have a point there Mr. Grunwald," Varus took another sip from his glass, "there is not much we can do right now, but if we do succeed in shaking our stalker tomorrow then I think we need to mount an investigation. If it fails to turn up anything then I will order a full search of the ship once we reach port."

"I don't think the passengers will appreciate that sir; remember we have no actual proof that there is anything suspicious about this object."

"True, but I won't take any chances. Right now there are too many unsavory characters aboard and I don't like this new turn of events."

"Aye sir," the boatswain got to his feet, "do you have any suspects?"

"No, at least no one who stands out from the rest anyway. What about you Archie?"

"The same as yourself sir, but I think I'll sound out the crew once this is over. That climb around the stern would be difficult at the best of times and in this swell it would need a very surefooted person to get around without being seen."

"Well that's something; you can also sound out the sentries on deck. If we're lucky one of them might have seen something."

"Aye aye sir," Grunwald turned and left the captain alone to his thoughts.

-AAA-

As the boatswain emerged from below decks he caught sight of Atcher lounging casually against the port railing. The nobleman glanced round at his approach, tensing visibly as recognition set in. He waited until Grunwald had reached the quarterdeck steps, pushed away from the railing and disappeared below decks, one eye always fixed on boatswain.

_Now there's one I wouldn't put it past. Reckon I'll have to question him tomorrow_ If nothing else it might prove amusing to ruffle the young fop's feathers.

The next person he saw was Heider who stood by the railing that overlooked the main deck. The two men exchanged curt nods but otherwise paid each other no mind. It seemed that the mercenary captain, like himself, currently had other things on his mind.

The quarterdeck was deserted by now save for the three men on watch. Sinjun was on the wheel and two other sailors were lounging against the rail, taking it in turns to glance out to sea through a spyglass. As he approached Grunwald recognized them as Straus and Erard, two of the men who had been with him when they had boarded the deserted brig. A glance along the rest of the ship showed that it too was devoid of all signs of life, although he knew that at least one other sailor would be stationed up in the crow's nest and several more were likely to be in the rigging.

"What was all that about Archie?"

"Theft, it seems that someone's been helping themselves to the captain's possessions."

Sinjun nodded slowly, his expression betraying neither surprise nor curiosity. Hardly surprising, for like the boatswain he was a man of few words and had long since learnt to mask his emotions. "Any suspects?"

Neither man noticed as Heider slowly turned his head, cocking an ear in an effort to hear more of the conversation.

"One or two, I plan to look into it tomorrow."

"What was taken?"

"Certain objects…some unusual ones, but that will have to wait for now."

Sinjun nodded, understanding the hidden meaning of his friend's words. There was clearly more to it than this, but for reasons best known to himself Archie did not want to discuss it here in the open where they might be overheard. He made a mental note to ask his friend about it later.

"Have there been any new developments?"

"None, either we've shaken that bugger off or he's doing a good job of staying out of sight."

"Let's just hope it's not the latter. I got a good look at that ship and I could swear she's a galley."

"Corsairs?"

"Possibly, but corsairs or not if she's still shadowing us come tomorrow then there will be definite cause for concern."

"Shall I have the men prepare for battle?"

"Not right now, they're all jumpy enough as it is and there's no need to further alarm them. But I think we will prepare the weapons, and ready the bolt thrower at dawn. I think I'll also have the cook serve breakfast a little earlier than usual, that way the lads should have time to eat and at least it will give the cook a good reason for being made to keep the fire lit, I know he's been grumbling a lot at having to keep it going throughout the night. If there is any sign of trouble then at least we'll be ready."

The two men continued in conversation for several minutes before the boatswain eventually decided to catch some much needed sleep and left the bridge with orders that he was to be summoned immediately if anything strange should happen.

Heider watched him go, casting a wary gaze out to where he assumed the strange sail might still be.

_You lot might not know it, but I reckon blood will flow tomorrow. _He just hoped that Vorcha could keep the men under control until the order was given.

-AAA-

Meanwhile down in his cabin Joseph finally put aside the whetstone and laid the cutlass down on his desk alongside his knives and bow. His few possessions had currently been packed into a sling bag and now only the weapons and the armour that he intended to wear come the dawn had been left unpacked. Though the captain seemed hopeful of shaking their pursuer Joseph was not so sure. He had no basis for this supposition, only the strange feeling that seemed to plague him whenever battle was imminent. Something would happen tomorrow-he was sure of that.

The elf returned his gaze to the cutlass, smiling slightly at the memories it sparked. He had purchased it some ten years ago upon setting sail from a port in distant Cathay, the same empire where he been taught the ancient smiting secrets that had enabled him to forge his deadly katana, his current weapon of choice. However when fighting on board ship the cutlass served as his primary weapon, with the katana acting as backup. A soldier by trade, Joseph was always alert to the lessons of combat and knew that on board ship in the close press of bodes and cramped decks the long swords and elegant rapiers that were favored on land would be of limited use. The key advantage of the cutlass was that its curved design had the effect of shortening the length which made it easier to wield in a confined space and therefore much better suited to fighting on board ship.

He wondered briefly how the others on board were dealing with the situation. Were they now gripped with fear and trying not to show it? Were they savoring the promise of action to break the monotony of the voyage? Or had they put such thoughts out of their minds, convinced that they would manage to elude the strange vessel during the night.

_Well if we have they'll be in for a shock_.

Still there was no sense in dwelling on such thoughts; instead he intended to make some rather more constructive use of the remaining hours.

-AAA-

It was still more than six hours before dawn, about half an hour after Grunwald had retired, that a solitary figure dressed in a long cloak emerged from the hatchway. Pausing momentarily to scan the decks it turned and made its way up the quarterdeck steps, exchanging pleasantries with the three men on watch before making its way over to the port rail. For a while it simply stood there, gaze drifting out to sea. Then, satisfied that it was not being observed, the figure withdrew a small object from its cloak. After pausing again to ensure that no one had observed the action it casually leaned out over the rail and slowly lowered the object down the side on a length of thin rope, only stopping when it was almost at wave height. Satisfied, the figure muttered some unintelligible words under its breath and the object suddenly began to glow, throwing a steady illumination over the dark sea.

_This should do the trick_. The figure kept its eyes and ears pricked, ready to drop the object the second there was any indication that someone had seen the light. But no challenge came; it seemed that after several hours of untroubled sailing the men on watch had allowed their guard to drop and were now being less alert than they should be. It was both a forgivable and an unforgivable error that would cost them dearly.

-AAA-

TBC.

OOC: For everyone who enjoys action, don't worry as I intend to kick-start things in the next chapter.

-AAA-


	20. You May Commence Firing

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

OOC: pacificuser: thanks.

It was thirty minutes to dawn when Varus finally gave the order to beat to quarters. In a warship this would have entailed the entire ship's company moving to battle stations on the upper deck. However the _Vuture_, being a merchantman, did not possess a large crew. Although she could, by military standards, have probably held up to one hundred and seventy men within her old hull she had never sailed with such a full compliment. Her cargo had been envisaged as general goods, not human. Varus may have made a point of making sure that his men were paid on time but, like the majority of merchant captains, he also pursued a policy of sailing with the minimum number of hands on board. Fewer sailors meant fewer wages to pay and reduced the battering his own income took on the occasions when he had to hire marines. In all it was rare for the total number of men on board to exceed eighty-in fact her compliment at present was only slightly higher at one hundred and seven crew and officers, not including the twenty hired marines and the passengers.

Still, the captain had at least proved agreeable to paying out maintenance for the ship's few weapons. Cutlasses, tomahawks and daggers, always kept clean and serviceable by the boatswain's team, were distributed amongst the sailors. Those men not required to be on duty in the rigging remained below decks as they waited for breakfast to be served, a few of them restlessly stirring above decks as anxiety began to replace drowsiness.

Under Heider's direction the marines prepared their own weapons for use and took up their allocated stations atop the forecastle and quarterdeck, with several spread out in between to repel boarders amidships. Each man carried either a cutlass or a hand axe and had a bow and a quiver of arrows strapped to their back. Unlike the sailors they had covered themselves with armour, mainly chainmail or boiled leather jerkins with pot helmets to protect their heads. Heider himself had donned a vicious looking scimitar with the emblem of a skull fused into the hilt. Rather surprisingly he had declined to wear a helmet, instead choosing to wrap a scarlet cloth around his head. When one of the passengers had asked him about this the mercenary had simply replied "it's important for my men to see me during a battle. Things can quickly become confused once combat is joined."

These words had done nothing to calm the feelings of mounting fear now spreading across the ship.

The lookout made his first sighting as the sun topped the horizon.

"Deck there, sail to starboard aft."

Selby raised his spy-glass but could make out nothing on the horizon.

"Can you identify it?" his bellow sounded unnaturally loud in the cold air.

"No sir, she's too far off!"

"Keep her in sight, report when you can identify her."

Grunwald came up the steps, his face grim, "do you think it's her?"

"I don't know," the Master gave an exasperated sigh, "but if it is then I'll be I'll sure be interested to know how she managed to stay with us throughout the night."

"As will I."

Silence descended as news of the new sighting spread. Smoke drifted up from the galley port, announcing that breakfast would soon be served, but few on board took any notice. One hour ticked by slowly, and then two and still the lookout remained silent.

Selby was considering going up to look himself when the man's voice finally broke the stillness.

"Sir, I can make her out now, it's that same galley alright and she's closing in on us fast. Looks like their breaking out the oars."

Selby cursed, "How the hell did she manage to stay with us?"

"Your guess is as good as mine mate. Right now I think we'd better concentrate on getting the hell out of here."

"You really think we can outrun a galley Archie?"

"Most likely not but we'll have to try, and if the wind holds up then we might just be in with a chance." His tone held no conviction-deep hulled and well-rounded, the _Vulture_ was a lumbering giant compared to the sleek hulled galley, especially as the latter had deployed her oars for additional propulsion. Their only chance was to set all sail, prolong the chase for as long as possible and hope to sight a friendly vessel. The boatswain glanced astern briefly, a shiver running down his spine as he saw the black dorsal fin still trailing in their wake.

Selby's commands sent the topmen scampering up into the masts, climbing nimbly across the spars to lower the canvas sails. As these dropped into position more men ran to tie them into position. Grunwald dispatched Erard to fetch the captain and then set a team of sailors to work on preparing the bolt thrower for action. With practiced ease the 'Iron Jane' as one crewman had affectionately christened her, was uncovered and swung round until she faced out to starboard. The draw ropes were fastened into place and the eight foot iron-tipped bolts brought up from below. Some were taken to the galley where the cook, cursing angrily about having the slave away over preparing food for an ungrateful crew, grudgingly placed them with their heads in the galley fire where they would stay smoking until taken above for firing. This was their best chance if it came to a fight-a white hot bolt would act like an incendiary to sail-cloth and dry timber, setting the whole vessel alight unless it were doused quickly.

Varus was on deck in ten minutes. He wore his usual dark grey sea coat, carried a spy-glass one hand and had a curved hanger strapped to his side. It took the boatswain only a few moments to appraise him of the situation. When he raised his glass to the horizon the captain was able to make out their pursuer, her silhouette growing steadily larger as the distance between them closed. His scrutiny was abruptly interrupted by another shout from the lookout.

"Deck there, second sail astern! I think she's another galley."

"He thinks! What the hell use is that," the captain's tone was unusually harsh. Angrily he snapped his glass closed and handed it to Erard, "your eyes are young sailor, get up there and see what you can make of this." As the young man ran for the rigging he turned to address the mercenary commander, "Mr. Heider, it appears that we are going to need your men after all. I only hope that you all prove up to the task."

The man gave a curt nod in reply, flashing him a grim smile, "don't worry captain-I can promise you that my men will earn their pay when the time comes."

-AAA-

Within the hour Erard had confirmed the identity of the second vessel. It was indeed a galley like the first one and both ships had begun to close on the merchantman with one approaching from astern and the other slightly to starboard. If and when it came to boarding Grunwald was certain they would attack the merchantman from either side in an effort to divide the defenders.

There was, of course, no reason to assume that these ships were corsairs-for no openly hostile action had yet been performed, nor had either ship raised a flag that would identify them as corsairs. However it was very rare to see a galley this far from the coast and the mere fact that they had only cleared Sartosa the previous day certainly gave grounds for concern.

By now the passengers had begun to drift on deck in ones and twos, continuing to pester the seamen with anxious questions which were turned aside with increasing irritation as the day wore on. Right now the crew was on edge and was in no mood to answer what it saw as a bunch of stupid questions.

Varus could not fail to notice that every passenger seemed to have managed to arm themselves in some way. The trader Terps and the Bretonnian woman Ellaine had both appeared on deck several moments ago with swords at their sides. The woman still wore her travelling skirt but had strapped a jerkin of brown leather over her tunic. With her hair now tied back into a tight bun she appeared to have traded some of her feminine air for a more _commanding_ presence. The elf had come up on deck shortly after dawn. He carried no bow, but wore a cutlass at his side and had a sword of unfamiliar design strapped to his back. It seemed that when the moment of boarding came everyone was determined to be prepared.

Curious in their absence however were Atcher and his Kisletive bodyguard, for neither one of had been on deck since the previous night. The captain found this rather puzzling, for surely the nobleman would have as much cause for worry as anyone. If he was lucky the pirates might take him for ransom, _might_ being the word of choice, but surely he would feel the same need to remain informed of the unclear situation. Still at least it meant the young fop was staying out of his hair for now.

-AAA-

Meanwhile down below decks Atcher opened the door to his cabin and scanned the corridor, quickly ducking back as one of the crew came up the hatch and ascended to the deck above. After waiting for a few more moments Atcher moved out into the corridor and closed his door behind him. Moving quickly he glanced down the hatch; took a final look at both ends of the corridor and rapidly descended the stairs.

-AAA-

On the quarterdeck Heider leaned out over the railing to take a look around the main deck, his gaze sweeping across the people who had gathered there, until he finally located Vorcha. As if sensing his commander's gaze the sergeant turned to face him. Heider gestured briefly to the hatchway and raised five fingers.

Without acknowledging the gesture Vorcha moved across the deck towards a group of marines who were waiting by the forecastle. After exchanging a few brief words he turned and headed for the hatchway, five of the marines following in his wake.

-AAA-

Deep within the ship's hold a dark shape cloaked in rags stirred in its hiding place behind a large stack of sacks. The figure cocked its head as if trying to hone in on a particular sound. Something akin to a snarl escaped its lips.

_Well now, this could be a problem_.

-AAA-

Grunwald's earlier pessimism was proved well-founded, for soon the wind that had begun so strongly that morning slowly died away into a gentle breeze as the sun arose, effectively eliminating any frail hopes they might have entertained of outpacing their pursuers. As the heavy merchantman's speed had slackened so did that of her pursuers increase and the distance between them drop, drawing ever closer until the galleys were visible even to the people gathered on the main deck. There could be no doubt as to their intentions now, for each time the _Vulture_ had changed her course or performed a maneuver both galleys had immediately altered course to maintain their positions on her.

Selby and Varus studied the galleys warily through spy glasses. The leading vessel bore the standard design seen on most ships of her class. She was smaller than the _Vulture_ and her decks were noticeably lower, with her raised bow and stern castles probably standing just slightly higher than the merchantman's main deck railings. The second one was smaller still, but unlikely to have any trouble boarding them if she could get alongside. At this range it was now possible to discern the fine lines along the hulls that marked these vessels as fast sailors. On each side three rows of long oars, perhaps over a hundred on each side rose and fell in a steady synchronized rhythm as the slaves inside were driven to row faster by their overseers.

One feature in particular that drew Selby's attention was the lower bow of each galley, which descended into a smooth incline but, unlike most sailing ships, did not continue this gentle curve downwards to the waterline. Instead it curved sharply outward away from the hull, throwing up a tall wave of spray down either side of the bow. Experienced mariner that he was Selby could guess what this feature was-he had heard tales of how the pirates built their galleys with underwater rams designed to tear out an enemy's keel. However this caused him no great concern because he knew the pirates would be after plunder and were unlikely to risk sinking their prize. The rams tended to be used only as a last resort when engaging a larger warship.

The master returned his study to the forecastles of both vessels, his attention drawn to a raised object at the forefront of each forecastle.

"They're both armed captain."

"Aye, bolt throwers by the looks of it. But I don't think we need worry just yet-that lot will want to take us intact so with any luck they won't shoot as long as they believe that they have a chance of catching us".

The mate voiced what had gone through both their minds, "or until we open fire on them. Then it will be two to one."

"Very true, so we must make sure that each shot counts. Kindly hoist all available sail and have Mr. Grunwald open fire when he feels that the time is right."

"Aye sir," Selby turned to dispatch one of the nearby crewmen to relay the message.

-AAA-

It took just over an hour and a half for the galleys to close the range. During this time Captain Varus had completed all preparations for action, stringing boarding nets across the railingsto help repel the enemy and ordering all passengers below decks together with a number of sailors and marines_._ The latter would be of little use until combat was joined and there was no sense in keeping them on deck where they could be hit by a stray bolt.

He took another look at both vessels through his spy glass. At this rate they would be up to the _Vulture _in less than an hour. Well there was no point in prolonging this any further. "Mr. Grunwald, you may commence firing."

Grunwald watched the designated ballista crew as they loaded the bolt into position. At his signal the weapon was rotated around on its bracket. After carefully checking the sights he raised one hand, "on my mark," there was a brief pause, "fire!"

-AAA-

TBC.


	21. An Omen of Things to Come

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story (damn its tiresome writing this all the time).

All reviews appreciated.

-AAA-

The first bolt overshot its target, splashing into the sea a good half mile short.

"Not bad for a first shot, reload!"

Adjusting the bolt thrower's angle Grunwald fired again, this time raising a splash some twelve feet short of the galley that was closing in from astern. "Alright we have the range, Mr. Erard you may start loading the heated shot now, and carry them carefully." There was no room for error here-heating a bolt took time and had he fired one of those projectiles first it would have simply wasted a valuable shot. But now they had the range it was time to change tactics.

The sudden sound of a splash to port reached his ears and the lookout's voice echoed down from the crow's nest.

"They're firing sir!"

_Well, that didn't take long_.

"Keep your heads down lads!" Grunwald jerked the trigger and the drawstring cracked violently, sending the white hot projectile streaking towards its target. The bolt splashed into the sea with a hiss, just below the targets waterline.

"A little higher and we'll have her." The boatswain resisted the urge to duck as something whistled overhead. Seconds later there was a sound of tearing cloth. Looking up he cursed upon seeing that that the corsairs bolt had punched through the main mizzen sail. Even as those below looked on the tear widened under the pressure of the wind until it tore open completely from top to bottom but, mercifully, did not shred. Had the wind been blowing any stronger that would almost certainly have happened.

Varus looked on with concern, "that was too close bosun."

"Fluke hit sir; it's too soon for them to have such a sure range."

The _Vulture's _next shot was on target, slicing through the rear galley's forward sail. Varus and Selby watched with baited breath, their spyglasses allowing them to spot the smoke that began to rise from the hole. For an instant it seemed that the plumes would die down, but then they began to intensify, flames licking out from the smoldering hole. These quickly spread, breaking out in all directions to consume the canvas sheet. In seconds the sail had disappeared and the flames had begun to lick at the mast and cordage, even as men ran to put them out.

"We got one," Selby nodded in approval.

"Not for long," despite the distance Varus could see that the vessel's oars were still moving, her speed slightly reduced but nothing more.

There was a loud crash and all present felt the deck vibrate violently underfoot.

"Damnit, find out where we're hit," Varus swayed but kept his footing, "Mr. Harris adjust your target, we've got to silence one of those bastards!"

-AAA-

Below decks Joseph winced as he felt the impact of the bolt striking home. He fought the urge to glance down the corridor, brushing aside all thoughts about what would happen if one of the bolts were to come flying through the stern windows. Propelled by a machine probably equal in size to the one on the _Vulture's_ poop deck the projectile could potentially travel the full length of the ship, skewering anyone in its path. He glanced up along the corridor, his gaze travelling over the others waiting below decks. In all some twenty eight sailors and twelve marines were currently sheltering along the first deck. Their orders had been very clear-remain below decks where the ship's thick timber sides would provide shelter from the bolts currently being fired at them, but once battle was joined they were to charge up on deck to meet their attackers. Further aft in the stern cabin another fourteen sailors waited with the remaining seven marines-a rear guard in case the pirates were to attempt to board through the canvas sheet that covered the windows.

The rest of the ship's company was above decks engaged in either handling the sails or firing the ship's weapon. He just hoped that those heated bolts being brought up from the galley could score a lucky hit and cripple one of their pursuers, because if both galleys managed to grapple then their chances of survival would be slim at best. The others must have been thinking along the same lines, for an eerie silence had settled over the men who stood fiddling nervously with their weapons. No one seemed in the mood to talk and several marines were now pacing restlessly up and down.

Heider stood to his left, tapping his fingers on the hilt of his sword. The eyes adorning the skull flickered momentarily in the half-light, almost as though the thing were blinking. Occasionally he would glance down at the main hatchway, perhaps wondering where his subordinate had got to. Joseph had seen Vorcha descend the steps to the hold two minutes ago with several marines in tow and so far none of the men had re-appeared. Why they had gone below decks at this time the elf could not fathom, unless they were to form some last minute reserve force in the event of the initial combat going badly for the defenders.

Joseph saw Ellaine waiting by her cabin door, hand resting upon the hilt of her sword. She looked up and met his gaze, offering a weak smile. He could read the fear behind her eyes, could understand what she was feeling-probably the same fear gnawing at his own gut right now, a fear that one always felt before going into battle. The elf offered a small nod, trying to convey some understanding with his look. He wondered what would happen to her if the pirates took them. Would she even allow herself to be taken alive or would she trust herself to the mercy of the corsairs? Pirates usually preferred to take high-born women alive and unharmed so that they could be ransomed off later, but not all captains held this view. The thought of such a fate befalling her disturbed him, though he did not understand why.

Suddenly the silence was shattered by a high-pitched scream from the captain's cabin. More screams quickly followed it, accompanied by the crash of upended furniture.

"Damn, a bolt must have come through the stern!" the elf brushed past the mercenary commander, making for the rear cabin.

Heider shook his head, his expression grim, "I'm afraid not."

"What...?"As Joseph glanced back he caught the movement in the corner of his eye. The blow struck him across the back of the head. Light blasted across his vision and he staggered forward, hands instinctively groping for support. Heider struck him again, this time with more force, then planted his foot against the elf's lower back and kicked out. Joseph toppled forward down the hatchway, hitting the top step before continuing to fall down the second hatch into the hold where he came to rest in a sprawled heap at the foot of the ladder, his cutlass falling from his grasp.

_A shame_, _I really wish you had accepted my offer elf, _Heider drew his sword, "now lads, now's the time!"

As one the marines, who had spent the last half hour below decks carefully placing themselves at the far end of the crowd, drew their bows and fired. Twelve arrows shot into the packed ranks of seamen.

Then the shrieking began.

-AAA-

On the ship's second deck James Atcher descended the final steps and approached the sailor who had been detailed to guard the hold. The man regarded him warily, remembering his orders not to allow anyone below decks without the captain's permission. "Can I help you sir?"

"New orders sailor, everyone's to report to the first deck to repel boarders"

"I'm sorry sir, but I will require those orders from one of the crew, not from a passenger."

"Very well, suit yourself," Atcher half turned and paused as though he had just remembered something, "oh and by the way."

As the sailor looked up Atcher lunged forward. In a heartbeat he had unsheathed his dagger and rammed the blade into the man's stomach. As the sailor sagged against him with a gasp of pain Atcher twisted the blade, tore it clear and thrust it up into the man's rib cage. With a final twist he tossed the limp body aside, made a quick inspection of the hold and began to climb the stairs.

"So sorry about that my good man."

-AAA-

The Iron Jane fired again, disgorging its deadly projectile at the port galley.

"Good shot Mr. Grunwald, looks like it went straight into the oar deck."

"Doesn't seem to have slowed her though sir. Load!" There was a sharp clang as the galley returned fire, her projectile slamming into the mainmast to leave a seven foot shaft embedded in the timbers. At that moment a new sound reached their ears.

To describe the clamour as a scream would have been like describing an orc as an over-sized goblin, had Grunwald been asked to describe the sound he would have referred to it as something of a cross between a set of rusty nails being dragged slowly across a blackboard and the death wail of wounded seagull, only several octaves higher and quite considerably louder. The noise seemed to shatter the very air itself, going on and on until it had pierced the heart of every man on deck.

Grunwald was the first to find his voice, "what the hell is that!"

"I don't know Archie," Selby shook his head irritably and reached for his tomahawk, "but it sounds like its coming from below decks!"

"What the…"

At that moment the ship gave a wild lurch and began turning sharply to starboard. All those on the quarterdeck were thrown about violently by the sudden maneuver whilst from aloft came a terrified scream as one of the top men was caught off-guard and lost his footing, plummeting headlong towards the decks. The man's body bounced when it struck the railing, his blood splattering across the deck before the body disappeared into the roaring surf.

Varus fought his way back to his feet and rounded on the helmsman, "you idiot, what the hell do you think you're doing!"

"Nothing sir." Sinjun, clinging to the wheel, was the only one who had managed to keep his footing. He spun the wheel back and forth and cursed when he encountered no resistance. Again he swung it round and stepped back, watching as the wheel continued to swing uselessly in circles.

"The wheel won't respond sir, the tiller ropes must have parted!"

Varus stared at him in disbelief, "how is that possible?"

Sinjun shook his head, "I don't know sir but I reckon we…"

Something whistled past the boatswain's head and Sinjun's words were abruptly cut off. When Grunwald glanced back his friend was no longer on deck. With mounting trepidation the boatswain slowly raised his gaze and fought hard not to throw up at the grisly sight that met his eyes. The bolt, which must have missed him by mere inches, had struck Sinjun full in the chest with such force that it had driven straight through him, carrying on to smash through the railing and disappear overboard. The big man had been flung backwards against the railing and now lay in bloody heap, his head lolling forwards at an unnatural angle. Blood pumped from the gaping wound in his chest, staining his checkered blue shirt and gathering in a steadily expanding pool around him. The man's entrails had been ripped out by the barbed projectile and now lay scattered underneath his legs.

For a moment Grunwald simply froze, staring in horror at the broken body of his friend before the crash of another projectile hitting the ship jerked him back to his senses. This was no time to grieve, that would come later.

"Get back to your posts! I want that blasted weapon reloaded, and Mr. Jonas," he turned to the master's mate, "take some men and find out what the hell's happening below decks. We've got to get that tiller rope re-attached or we're all dead!"

-AAA-

Momentarily paralyzed with surprise, Ellaine watched as Heider struck the elf and threw him down the hatchway, seeing the man draw his sword back and lunge at the nearest sailor. Heider was sprayed with blood as his blade bit deep into the man's jugular. An instant later the air was split apart by the most frightening wailing Ellaine had ever heard. In the confined corridor it seemed to bounce from wall to wall, blasting her ears from all directions. She watched in disbelief as the mercenaries unleashed there arrows into the packed group of sailors. The five men nearest to her fell, feathered shafts protruding from their chests and stomachs.

The mercenaries took no notice of the wailing. Tossing their bows aside each man drew his weapons and charged, plying sword and dagger with deadly effect. Suddenly the door to the captain's cabin burst open to disgorge seven more marines who, without a pause, ran down the corridor to attack the crew from the other side. Unprepared for this two-pronged attack the men fell back, groping desperately for their own weapons.

With no time to draw her sword the young woman threw herself forward, ducked the swing of an axe and jerked her knee upwards into the man's groin. As he doubled over her head snapped upwards, butting him squarely on the chin. The man fell backwards and Ellaine swung round to meet her next opponent, drawing the dagger from her belt. In the half-light she could make out Henry's glaring features.

"You bitch! You'll pay for what you did to me!"

The man swung his sword, but as he lunged forward the ship suddenly lurched wildly beneath them. Everyone who didn't go crashing to the deck was slammed violently against the walls. Many combatants fell against one another, scrabbling madly to get up. Ellaine was the first to regain her feet and rushed her assailant, grabbing Henry's sword arm and ramming her dagger into the marine's throat. Blood sprayed her across the face, momentarily blinding her. Frantically wiping her eyes, Ellaine groped for her sword.

-AAA-

Vorcha did not look round when he heard Joseph's body strike the planking. At Atcher's signal his men quickly descended the steps to the second deck and the ship's hold. With a few hand gestures he signaled the group to disperse. One man descended the final steps to assist the nobleman in sweeping the hold, another remained by the ladder, bow drawn, to cut off any retreating crewmen. The remaining three marines followed Vorcha down to the second deck, picking up their pace as the terrible wailing reached their ears from above.

_Well I see that the captain has got to work_.

Two sailors suddenly appeared in the doorway ahead, cutlasses in hand. Sword raised, Vorcha charged them. Taken by surprise, the first one did not react in time and Vorcha's thrust took him straight through the heart. He twisted the blade, bringing a gasp from the man's lips before tearing it free, stepping back and letting the sailor slump to the floor, blood trickling from his mouth. The second sailor reacted faster, blocking his opponents strike. It did not save him. Before he could launch a riposte a second marine ran up and struck him across the head with a fight axe. The blade bit deep, scattering blood and brain tissue across the deck as the sailor's body hit the floor.

A crash from up ahead drew their attention and, swords at the ready, they sped through the door, fanning out to meet the expected assault.

Boris glanced up, wiping a trickle blood from his axe. A sailor lay sprawled at his feet, the back of the man's head caved in by a sharp blow. Two more bodies lay behind him. Upon closer inspection Vorcha recognized the gaunt features of Peck, the ship's purser. The man must have been taking shelter down here when the big Kisletive had made his move. A single strike had almost severed the man's head, splattering the nearby wall with blood.

Vorcha detected movement in the shadows behind the big Kisletive and watched as Ragnar Falkirk emerged, a cutlass in hand and his shirt stained with blood.

Boris regarded the marines dispassionately, "you lot took your time."

Vorcha ignored his gibe, "whatever, do you two know where to find the tiller ropes?" when both men nodded he jerked a thumb over his shoulder, "right then go and cut them. No serious damage you understand, we just need her crippled for a while."

"Aye aye…sir."

As the two men hurried away Vorcha advanced down the deck, "search everything and kill anyone who resists. I don't want anything or anyone overlooked."

-AAA-

"Sir," Boris threw his master a half salute as they passed on the stairs. Atcher, who was climbing towards the upper deck, nodded in reply and stepped over the still form of the elf. Sword in hand he headed for the melee that still raged above.

Boris wasted no time in descending the final set of steps, pausing only to give the elf a passing kick. _Missed your step I see_. With Ragnar at his heels the Kisletive swung right and ran to the back of the hold. "Get me a lantern!"

The seaman grabbed a lantern from a hook, removed the candle and fumbled in his pockets for some flint. After a few strikes the candle took light and was placed back inside its steel frame, the yellow glow pushing away the darkness.

"Right bring it over here."

Using the light Boris located the rudder mechanism. After making a brief check he hefted his axe and severed two of the ropes, jumping back to avoid being slashed as the taut lines of cordage sprang apart. The result was almost instantaneous-battling the pressure being exerted by the strong currents, the rudder snapped sideways. Now driven only by the wind the ship gave a wild lurch to starboard. Taken completely off-guard both men were sent sprawling, the Kisletive cursing angrily as his head struck the deck planking.

"Damnit!"

"Come on mate," Ragnar was already making for the hatch steps, "it sounds like the fights still on."

-AAA-

The fight, if that's what it could have been called, was in fact almost over. The marines had chosen their positions carefully before launching the attack. After their initial volley the main group had attacked from one side of the corridor, whilst Heider struck out alone from the opposite end. Under most circumstances one man would not have been able to complete this pincer attack alone but the wailing that emanated from his sword had left the sailors momentarily frozen with fear and allowed him to cut down three of them before they finally began to fight back. At this point the group of marines stationed in the far cabin, having dispatched the sailors that had been waiting with them, had arrived to complete the trap. Hemmed in on both sides the sailors had nowhere to run and soon men who had not been killed were tripping over their comrades who had been and keeping ones footing had become increasingly difficult as blood began to stain the decks.

Ellaine was still struggling with her opponent, sparks flying as her blade met his cutlass. In this cramped corridor she soon found that there was no room for fancy sword-play, here you could only hack and stab at your enemy and hope for the best. In here brute strength and endurance counted for more than skill and her foe had the advantage in both. Locking hilts the marine forced her back against the wall, leering wickedly over the crossed blades. Anger flashed through Ellaine's veins and her head snapped forward, meeting his nose with the sharp crack of broken cartilage. The man staggered but did not fall. Summoning all her strength into one mighty blow the Bretonnian pushed him backwards and pressed her attack. A quick twist of the wrist realigned her blade and she lunged, driving the blade through the marine's leather jerkin and into his chest.

Then something struck her hard on the head. The woman fell to her knees, sword falling from her grasp. As she fell she was dimly aware of a booted foot against her side, flipping her onto her back. Then everything went black.

Mere feet away Straus was desperately parrying blows with his cutlass. Moving with the skill drilled into him over several years of constant training he sidestepped the marine's lunge, lifted his sword and hacked the man across the neck as he went past. Then Heider was on him, his sword a wild blur as he forced the sailor back against the wall. For an instant the two men locked swords, their faces inches from one another. Suddenly Heider leapt forward and latched onto the sailor's nose. His neatly filed teeth punched through flesh, bringing blood streaming from the wound. Ragnar gave a cry of pain; a cry choked off as Heider brought his blade forward to slice him across the throat. Straus fell back and Heider's blade slashed him across his chest. As the man fell Heider reversed his grip on the blade and rammed it down into his throat.

Straus sobbed as he died, bloodied spittle coursing from his lips. As his vision began to darken his gaze fell upon the sprawled form of another sailor. The man's eyes, inches from his own, were glazed over in death, staring sightlessly upwards at the ceiling.

_I always wondered if it would end this way_.

Then he died.

His killer had no time to savor this victory, as one sailor slashed another marine across the throat before shoulder charging into the captain. As he did so Heider's foot slipped on the bloody deck. The marine rolled as he fell, trying to come up into a fighting crouch. His opponent loomed above him, blade held high. The sailor's face suddenly grimaced in pain before staggering sideways and falling.

Atcher wrenched his sword clear of the man's back. He did not offer his hand.

"It is done," his voice was almost drowned out by the wailing of Heider's sword.

The commander rose, sheathing his weapon and the terrifying sound abruptly ceased. A quick glance revealed the noble to be correct. The corridor was packed with the bodies of sailors. Some of them were groaning and clutching at themselves but most now lay still, their only movement being the blood that continued to ebb from their wounds. Most of the dead were sailors, not a single one of whom now remained standing, although he saw that a few of his own men had also fallen during the savage fight.

"Then let us finish this, you two", here he gestured to the two nearest marines, "stay here and attend to the wounded. No unnecessary deaths-remember that we want them in good condition. Everyone else get up on top now!"

-AAA-

"This way men," Jonas made for the hatchway…and jerked backwards, landing on his back with an arrow protruding from his shoulder. His scream jerked every man's gaze away from the galleys. Frozen in shock for a moment, the four men who had been following him hastened over to the prostrate form.

"What the devil!" Selby ran to the quarterdeck railing, his eyes travelling to the hatchway.

The four men had scarcely reached Jonas when the first marine appeared on deck, arrow notched and at the ready. More filed out behind him, Atcher at their head. Without a pause the noble lunged at the nearest sailor, running him through before the man could even raise his cutlass in defence. The elegant rapier snagged on the sailors ribs as he fell, but rather than try to hold it Atcher simply let it go and threw himself at the next one, knife in hand, and they crashed to the deck.

The crewman rolled out of top, using his greater bulk to his advantage. With one hand he forced Atcher's knife arm back, raising the other one to strike. Suddenly a steely hand encased his wrist. As he looked back Heider rammed a dagger into the man's ribs, kicking him away. The remaining two sailors quickly went down under a hail of swords and axes.

Without a pause the marines fanned out, bows trained on the shocked sailors. Heider himself led a party up towards the quarterdeck, ascending the steps at a run. His remaining men moved to close the trap. The sailors up in the rigging and those on the quarterdeck, so absorbed in their own tasks were slow to react with many only now beginning to comprehend this new development.

Selby and Grunwald stood beside the captain, their weapons drawn. At their backs Erard, Harris and the others had grabbed what weapons they could and now looked on nervously, their eyes drawn to the notched bows now leveled at them. Varus had his own sword in hand and stood facing Heider's party. Four of the marines fanned out, two on either side of Heider, their bows leveled. "Stand down Captain," the marine had unsheathed his sword again, though for now the blade remained silent. "I would prefer not to have to kill you but you must realize that you have no chance. Your ship is crippled, the men you have below decks are all under our control and as you can see we can easily take care of the rest of you."

There was a sickening crash as one of the galleys fired again, its bolt smashing into the stern timbers. Heider paid it no heed.

"Are you mad, I don't know what you're playing at Heider but those are corsairs pursuing us, do you have any idea what will happen if they get hold of us!"

"Those corsairs are not our concern captain, in fact I was rather counting on them being here to render my men assistance," now he flashed Varus an evil grin, "oh yes I do believe you understand my actions now."

Even as he spoke there was movement in the rigging as several sailors finally unfroze and scrambled for their weapons. At Atcher's command the marines discharged their bows and a dozen figures fell to the deck, plucked from their platforms by well placed arrows. Heider shook his head sadly. "Needless deaths captain," he raised his hand, "shall I order more?"

"_You bastard!"_ Varus glared at the traitor with hatred blazing in his eyes. The marine merely stared back without emotion. Finally Varus dropped his hanger, letting the blade clatter to the deck. "Strike the colors Mr. Grunwald."

The boatswain glanced at him, his face empty of expression, "sir?"

"I'll not waste more lives on empty gestures. Strike those colors now."

It was the only remaining course of action, they had no chance of escape, and with the marines now in control of the ship any further resistance would be futile. His heart heavy Grunwald moved away from the bolt thrower. The marines watched him wearily, ready to cut him down if the man made any attempt to resist. They need not have worried. Without ceremony the boatswain moved to the mizzen mast, took hold of the necessary halyards and began to run the rope through his fingers.

Slowly, steadily, the company flag descended from its perch on the jib sail. As it went down a collective moan seemed to rise up from the ship, for many saw the falling flag as an omen of the fate about to befall them.

-AAA-

TBC.


	22. Futile Defiance

OOC: Hello everyone. First of all I would like to apologise for my considerable absence this last year. I really have no excuse-I have been given this new computer game by a friend of mine (it is called _The Elder Scrolls III: Morrowind_) and have spent far too much time playing on it-it really is easy to waste many hours on the game. I did resume this story on a couple of occasions but always drifted away from it.

However I have recently taken a trip to see my family for my birthday and I have taken this opportunity to start writing again. Hopefully I will get the story finished this time. I also have a rough draft planned for some additional stories and plan to start writing them after completing this one. I have also taken the opportunity to revise all previous twenty one chapters. Some of them remain largely the same but others have had heavy rewriting done to various sections. However I am not going to tell you which ones so anyone who is curious will simply have to read the whole lot again.

OOC: Once again I do not own Warhammer and I will not gain any financial benefits from writing this story.

All reviews appreciated.

-AAA-

All fire ceased once the colours had been hauled down. Slowly, cautiously, the galley to starboard lifted up the oars on its port side, executed a half turn and began to glide towards the merchantmen. Under Heider's watchful gaze all unnecessary sails were let loose and the merchantman came to a complete halt, wallowing heavily in the troughs.

"Vorcha, get everyone below decks, post guards at every entrance. And when you're done make the ship ready to receive boarders."

"Aye sir," Vorcha hastened to obey his commander. One by one the sailors were ordered down from the rigging, quickly disarmed and marched down into the hold. Grunwald and Varus led the way, with the wounded master's mate in the rear. The marine's divided themselves into several groups, positioning themselves at both ends of the upper and lower decks. Despite their victory the men kept their weapons drawn, watching for signs of resistance.

Suddenly as the captive sailors began descending into the hold one of them seized his chance. With a sudden leap he tackled the nearest mercenary, sending them both crashing to the deck. The soldier recovered instantly, jerking a knee upwards into his assailant's kidney. A knife appeared in his hand and buried itself in the sailor's neck, spraying the deck with blood as it sank into the jugular.

Angered by the sight of yet another death the sailors began to move forward, coming to an abrupt halt as they saw the notched bows aimed in their direction. Vorcha tapped the nearest bowman on the shoulder and pointed to a young blonde sailor.

"Kill that boy".

Before anyone could move the marine loosed his arrow, silently dropping the designated target. The body sagged against its former comrades, several of whom fell back in horror.

Vorcha's tone was tinged with reproof, "let that serve as a warning gentlemen, if you resist we will kill you and the man standing next to you. Just do as we say and no one else needs to die."

"Do as he says men," Varus spoke as one resigned to his fate, "no heroics."

"Very wise captain, now get them below."

"What about the passenger's sir?"

"Put the men down with the crew, the women can be placed in the forecastle cabins, we'll place guards to watch both groups and when out…" he broke off at the sound of a shout of rage. _Oh what now?_

"Get them below now!"

-AAA-

In one of the foredeck cabins Ellaine was having problems of her own. Two marines had spread her up against the wall and one was currently searching her for weapons. Her head throbbed painfully and this treatment was not helping her mood. She grimaced as the man doing the searching ran his fingers over her thighs.

"Keep your filthy hands off me."

"Be quiet!" the man shoved her up against the wall, "you'll do as you told woman. You know you killed some of my friends today and I really don't like that. If I were you I'd be careful about what I say."

"They were all murderous traitors, as are you. They got what they deserved."

"Well now, a feisty one aren't we." The marine allowed his hands to wander over her rump, taking a firmer grip than was necessary. Ellaine remained composed, waited for the man to bring his hands up higher and stepped backwards, bringing her heel down sharply onto the instep of his boot. Seconds later her head jerked backwards, catching him squarely in the jaw.

"You bitch!" the marine drew his dagger and made to grab her by the hair.

Ellaine ducked the grasping hand and swung away, her back to the cabin wall "come on scum!"

"I'll make you beg for death."

"Enough!"

From the doorway Vorcha took in the scene before him, eyes touched with amusement. He gestured to the irate marines, "get out now." As the two men limped out Vorcha turned his attention back to Ellaine.

"Do you have any weapons? You must understand that if you say no and I find any I will have to have you placed in irons as you cannot be trusted."

"Your thugs took my weapons before they threw me in here. If I had any others then I would have used them on that scum you just sent out."

"You have courage woman but you lack good sense. In view of your recent antics you will be kept here for the time being and just to make sure you behave yourself I will have someone watch over your faithful servant. Any more of this misbehavior and she will suffer the consequences."

Ellaine clenched her fists, anger written on her face, "If you scum touch her I swear by the Lady I will cut your balls off!"

The marine corporal smirked, "yes talk is cheap miss. Please excuse me". He turned and left through the doorway, pausing before pulling it closed, "remember my words." He locked the door behind him.

-AAA-

By now the starboard galley was several cables distant and, with the oars along one side withdrawn, it slowly glided to a stop alongside the merchantman's bulkier form. Up on the forecastle its bolt thrower remained trained on the _Vulture_, whilst down on the main deck a group of figures began fumbling with a set of davits. Heider trained the spy glass on this group, before shifting his gaze to the vessel's bows where a short burly man now stood with hands cupped to his mouth.

"They're hailing us Vorcha, better answer them. Somehow I don't think they'll appreciate being kept waiting." He was very conscious of the second galley, which was currently executing a series of maneuvers designed to bring her up on the _Vulture's _port side, effectively cutting off any chance of escape.

"Yes sir,' the corporal gestured to one of the marines who hastened to the forecastle, cupped his hands and acknowledged the challenge. Words were exchanged back and forth several times before the marine turned to face his captain, "they're sending a boarding party across sir."

"I see", Heider watched as a small cutter was swung out on the davits. A group of armed men hastily scrambled into the craft and within minutes it was on its way towards the merchantman. With the _Vulture's _steering currently lost the galley captain probably did not want to risk a collision with the larger vessel. He might also believe this to be a desperate trick to lure him in close and attempt a boarding. As unlikely as that was it was better to risk a small number of his crew as opposed to the whole ship.

"Allright men, stand by to receive boarders."

As the boat came alongside several grappling ropes were thrown up over the railing. These were quickly secured by the marines who stepped back as the first corsair's head came into view. He was a tall man, dark-skinned with swarthy features, a small black moustache and a white turban atop his head. He wore a pale yellow shirt, black trousers and dark leather boots. Contrasting with this colour scheme was a pale blue sash tied round the man's waist; presumably a badge of rank. A large cutlass hung from the corsair's waist and across his chest he wore a bandolier containing a collection of small of knives. He moved slowly, cautiously scanning the decks. Once satisfied there was no sign of resistance the corsair hauled himself on deck, "alright then, who's in command here?"

Atcher tapped the mercenary lightly on the arm, "I think I had better take it from here captain."

"Be my guest," as the nobleman walked away Heider took the opportunity to study the corsairs who had now gathered on deck. In all there were fourteen including the leader. They wore no distinctive uniforms, but instead were dressed in a mixture of white, black and more occasionally red clothing, with many of them sporting tri-corn hats or hair tied down with strips of canvas. All the men were armed to the teeth, sporting cutlasses, daggers, tomahawks and several bows. No armour was in evidence as presumably the corsairs preferred mobility over such cumbersome items.

The pirates had a generally undisciplined look about them. Their clothes looked unwashed, their faces were unshaven and their smell was detectable even from this distance. But appearances could be deceptive and he could see that the weapons, the most important possessions that any warrior could own, looked well maintained. If their combat training was as well enforced then Heider would be ready to admit that the corsairs deserved their fearsome reputation.

"James Atcher," the nobleman offered his hand, "I believe you were sent to meet us."

The pirate studied his hand dubiously, then reached out and shook it, "Diego Muktara, I have the honour to represent Commodore Karl Wolfe in this matter. I trust that you have made the ship secure."

"Yes we have the surviving crew below decks under guard and the ship is under our command."

"We noticed that violent turn you made earlier, I hope you have not sustained serious damage."

Heider shook his head, "unfortunately I am afraid we had to cut the steering lines in order to disable her, a necessary precaution in the event of our attack failing. Those ropes will need to be re-attached before we can get her underway again."

Diego raised his eyebrows and gave an irritated sigh, "Well I suppose it was too much to expect otherwise Mr…."

"Heider, I command the marines."

"Ah yes the commodore mentioned you. Well there's no point in delaying things, now how many prisoners do you currently have?"

"I'd say some forty or so under guard including the officers and passengers and another dozen wounded, some of whom cannot be moved just yet."

"We'll deal with that problem later. My men will handle the running of this ship and your marines can remain here. I intend to make a quick inspection of the prisoners and will start transferring them to the _Harbinger_ as soon as possible, the sooner they are under lock and key the better. Mr. Atcher, the commodore sends his regards and says that he will require you to repair on board within the hour, please gather up what you require and inform me when you are ready to leave. I think you had better go with him Mr. Heider, the captain will likely want to question you as well."

"Very well."

"Good, meanwhile I will see about getting some more men sent across to help take this ship in hand."

"Very good," Heider stole a glance at the horizon, noticing that the sky had begun to darken, "we had better move quickly."

-AAA-

The surviving crew and passengers had all been herded below decks into the hold, barring the wounded that had been placed under guard in the stern cabins. From these positions any attempt at breaking free would be easily contained whilst still allowing the marines to maintain control using a reduced number of men, leaving the rest free to manage the ship.

"How many did you say exactly captain?"

Heider shrugged, "about forty seven survivors in total, and we have another nine under guard in the cabins."

"The wounded I presume".

"Correct, and four women."

"No others?"

"It was a rather bloody business I'm afraid. We had to reduce the odds against us you understand."

Diego nodded thoughtfully, "alright then I think we'll start making the transfers now. If you could get your men to bring up, shall we say, eight crewmen at a time, then once they've been transferred across we'll take another eight. The women shouldn't be too much trouble so we can leave them until last. Are there any amongst the crew that we should keep an eye on?"

"Several actually. First of all I would advise you to watch out for the boatswain, he can handle himself in a fight and the crew holds him in high regard, a good rallying point for resistance. Then there's a marine who is not under my command, tall with silver hair and a scaled cloak-I'll point them both out to you of course. Then there's the Bretonnian woman, you'll need to be careful with her. She knows how to use a sword and she bested one of my men during the fight-don't drop your guard down around her."

"Oh I think I can handle a woman Mr. Heider. Now you two had better get across to the _Harbinger_, my captain does not like to be kept waiting.

-AAA-

TBC.


	23. The Commodore and the Prisoners

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer and am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

As always please read and review.

Pacificuser: it's nice to see that some of the old readers remain.

A-A-A.

Karl Wolfe was not what one would expect in a pirate captain. That was the first thought to enter Atcher's mind. Standing at just a couple of inches short of six feet in height the man was dressed in simple black robes and wore an iron halo around the crown of his neatly shaved head. The man's pale grey eyes were set deep into the sockets of a weather-beaten face that was crisscrossed with several scars. The chin, like his head, was clean-shaven and attached to his belt he kept a small leather tome wrapped in chain.

"Can I offer you two gentlemen a drink?"

Heider nodded, "I'd appreciate one sir."

Atcher nodded in agreement, running his gaze over the cabin as its occupant reached for a small drink's cabinet. The place was sparsely furnished and had a very austere air. Dominating the room was a sturdy dark oaken table on which was set a pewter tankard and a small stack of papers. Two swords, a large two-handed war-hammer and a framed picture depicting a large black bird, probably a crow or raven, were fixed to the wall. Aside from the drinks cabinet the only other piece of furniture in evidence was a hammock lying folded neatly in the corner. Several hooks fixed to the wall and ceiling indicated where this canvas sheet would be strung during the night.

Wolfe handed each man a cup of rum, noticing Atcher's interest. "Admiring my cabin?"

"I'm just surprised; I guess I was expecting something a little more 'flamboyant' from one so famous."

Wolfe did not smile, "I have no use for unnecessary trappings Mr. Atcher. My wealth is kept where it will be of most use to me and I purchase only what I require. Indeed I often lament that so many of my Sartosan brothers choose to squander their wealth without a second thought. Wiser I think to put it into sound ship-keeping and retirement funds. Would you not agree Mr. Heider?"

The marine gave a solemn nod in reply, "each to their own I think, although what you say does make good sense."

"Yes, and now," the pirate captain sank down into a high-backed chair, "I believe the two of you have a report to make. Well, let me hear the details."

The pirate listened without interrupting, leaning forward on the desk with the fingers of both hands interlocked across his face, concealing his mouth from view. He was silent whilst listening to Atcher's recounting of the _Vulture's _journey from Magritta, describing the preparations made by the marines during the voyage and their successful capture of the merchant vessel. Occasionally Heider would join in to describe some event on which Atcher was hazy, chiefly on the tactics he had employed to remove potential opposition and to bring the other marines over to his side. When their tale was finished Wolfe gave an approving nod.

"You have both done well. The damage to the tiller ropes should be easy to repair and I expect that we will soon be on our way. Well done gentlemen."

"Thank you sir," Heider downed the last of his drink, "may I ask what you intend to do with my marines."

"Oh I think they can remain aboard the merchantman for now, I have no use for them here and I believe they will be happier aboard the merchantman than they would be if forced to share quarters with my crew. Did you sustain many casualties?"

"I lost four men killed during the fight and another seven seriously wounded. I'm no healer but from the look of their wounds I'd say that two of them won't make it through the night."

"Hmm…that is regrettable but not worth dwelling upon. In truth I think that considering the odds levied against you your men have done a splendid job. You carried out your orders successfully and with minimum disruption. Now thanks to you we have taken plenty of prisoners and, from what you have told me, it would seem that we have now acquired some valuable cargo, which should please the crew."

"If I may ask, what do you intend to do with the prisoners?"

Wolfe turned his gaze back to the young nobleman, "they are to be brought on board my ship before we get underway. The ship's crew will all be taken below decks and put to work on the oars. We were some two dozen slaves short before setting sail and we lost several during the battle. In time I may invite the strongest amongst them to join the crew, the rest will either continue to serve as galley slaves or be given over to the slave markets of Sartossa. The passengers, however, present us with something of a problem. Under normal circumstances I would hold them to ransom; those who could pay would be allowed to go free, those who could not pay would join the crew as slaves. However our 'arrangement' dictates that I cannot risk word of our association getting out," he pursed his lips thoughtfully, considering the options before him. "I suppose that in order to protect your identities they will all have to go to the slave markets. A shame really, but one I think I can bear. Tell me are there any women on board?"

Heider nodded, "four in total, two of them are trader's wives travelling together, one is a Bretonnian of noble blood and the fourth is her maid. You'll have to watch the Bretonnian woman, she can handle a sword and she killed one of my men during the battle."

Wolfe raised both eyebrows in a display of surprise, "really, now that is unusual. And a woman of noble blood no less. Where is she now?"

"I had her secured in one of the ship's cabins as I did not think she would take well to captivity."

"You think she could cause us more trouble Mr. Heider?"

"I think that she should be placed under armed guard, but the best thing to do would be to use her maid as leverage. As long as we have her under our control I think the lady will behave herself."

Wolfe smiled but there was no humor in it, "good. I will have to consider ransoming them as a matter of course, although you need not worry, it is not strictly necessary that I hand them back once the ransom is paid. Are there any more individuals of note?"

"Watch the senior officers," Atcher scratched his chin thoughtfully, "the captain is a fool but the warrant officer's are a capable pair. They should be kept secure."

"And there is a marine aboard that may be cause for concern, an elf of considerable skill who I suggest you keep an eye on."

"An elf you say, one of the Feyfolk!" Wolfe now returned his attention to Heider, brows knitting in a deep frown, "such things are naught but old wives tales Heider, you know that. Surely you cannot be falling prey to such superstitions."

"I assure you sir he is very real, I have taken note of his description and compared it to the stories I grew up with as a child. I am certain he is nothing short of an elf."

"Well now, this is interesting. I should certainly like to meet this elf. Such a rarity might fetch a fair price on the slave markets."

"I was actually hoping that you might allow me to speak to him, I think that I might be able to persuade him to join us."

"Do you now," the pirate captain's frown deepened further, "have you not already tried to convert him?"

"No, I know he would not have agreed. Like me he is a professional and he had agreed to safeguard the ship as a marine."

"And why should his response be any different now?"

"Because now that the ship has been taken over his contract will be at an end and self-preservation can now take effect. If he can be brought over he could prove to be a useful soldier."

Wolfe studied him with interest. "You make an interesting argument Mr. Heider, but in my experience self-preservation can make for fleeting loyalties."

"When you captured the ship I served on I gave you my word as a professional mercenary. Has my service ever given you cause for doubt?"

"No more than any other man under my command. I suppose you are a living example of how loyalties can change under such circumstances. Very well, I shall think about you request for now, but be warned that I make no promise."

"Yes sir."

"Very well then, you are dismissed." He waved them away, reaching for the stack of papers on his desk.

Heider placed his tankard on the desk and turned to leave. Atcher remained where he was. "If I might trouble you for a moment, there is something I want to ask."

"Go ahead," Wolfe's expression remained neutral but his voice betrayed irritation.

"Before we put into port I would like to have some time alone with the Bretonnian and her maid. I've a particular interest in the two of them."

"An interest, what sort of interest?" Of course Wolfe guessed the answer, but it was Heider who supplied it.

"He tried to force his advances upon them some weeks ago, they beat him off and he's had it in for them ever since." He returned Atcher's glare with a look of contempt.

"Well now, isn't that a pretty little story. Well I'm sorry Mr. Atcher but you'll have to restrain your…urges for now. The noblewoman will be worth a great deal of money to me, too much to risk losing to your perverted machinations. Furthermore I have a strict rule-no women prisoners may be harmed whilst on board ship. Once we are in Sartosa I will hand them over to the slavers, if your petty vengeance means that much to you then you can buy them and do as you please. Until then you will not be allowed near the women, if you attempt to molest them then I am afraid that my guards will be forced to restrain you. Is that clear?"

Atcher was furious at the rejection of his request. He slammed his goblet down on the desk hard, splashing rum across the woodwork. "Now listen here, do not forget that my father's company is paying you handsomely for this and the report I make to them will determine how much you receive. I have been waiting for this chance for weeks now and I demand that…"

He got no further, for Wolfe's right fist shot out and caught the nobleman squarely under the chin, knocking him away from the desk and nearly to the floor.

"You will do as I say young whelp," the pirate's tone changed in an instant, the calm monotone giving way to a sharper tone that cracked out like a whip, "if it so pleases me I will have you thrown over the side and no one will be any the wiser. On board this ship you will obey my orders without question, _is that clear!_"

Atcher rubbed his jaw, "you…"

Heider laid a firm hand on the nobleman's shoulder, silencing further protests. "He understands sir."

"Good, now get out!"

The two men hurried out, lest their host should change his mind.

A-A-A.

"How dare he speak to me like that!"

"Never mind that Mr. Atcher," Heider motioned for him to keep his voice down, "let me make something very clear to you. That man is very dangerous, his behavior can often be unpredictable and I think he may well be mad. Your title and wealth mean nothing to him and if you anger him then you may well find yourself flung over the side, or worse. Do not do anything that will affect your disposition on board this ship, in fact if I were you I would try and keep out of the commodore's way as much as possible until he offloads us."

Atcher deflated slowly. Angry as he was the nobleman could see the wisdom behind the marine's words. There was nothing to be gained in provoking their host into sending him to a watery grave.

"How will he offload us? Damar said you would inform me of the arrangements."

"Simple, we will return to Sartosa and put up in that port for a few days. Once our affairs are in order we will be taken on board a galley that will offload us close to Miragliano. There is a small coastal cove near the city where we can get ashore. Afterwards we can slip into the city unnoticed and decide what to do next."

"You sound pretty confident."

"It has been done before several times."

"I see."

"Will you be staying on board here?"

"For now yes, there are some other matters I need to discuss with Wolfe."

"Very well, I will have your guard sent across," Heider turned towards the merchantman which had now been lashed alongside the smaller galley, their hulls grinding together noisily. The first group of prisoners was currently being escorted over the side. "Watch what you say to the commodore."

"I thought he was a captain."

"He prefers to be called commodore I suggest you remember that."

A-A-A.

Vorcha had to admit that this pirate Muktara was nothing if not efficient. Twelve of his men were immediately sent aloft to inspect the sails. Putting their weapons aside the pirates bounded up the rigging, running across the masts to assess the extent of damage. Three more were sent below under Ragnar's leadership equipped with ropes and tools to repair the damage to the tiller ropes. The remaining boarders were put to work putting the ship in order whilst the marines busied themselves with getting the prisoners up on deck.

After the earlier incident they were taking no chances, moving the crew up in threes and fours to stand around the mainmast.

"Right scum, we will be transferring you to our ship, do as you're told or you will be killed."

Muktara's threat proved unnecessary, the marine's earlier killing spree had already shown the crew where further resistance would get them. The group that had gathered under the mainmast was hustled over the guard rail and into the hands of the waiting corsairs. As more crewmen were brought up to join them Muktara cupped his hands and bellowed an order to one of the men on the galley's deck.

"Akbar, take them below decks and put them on the oars."

A short squat man dressed in a white shirt and sporting a white bandana about his head raised a hand in acknowledgement, "yes Mr. Muktara," he turned to the corsair crew, "get these scum in irons and be quick about it!" To emphasize his point the corsair grabbed one captive sailor by the shirt and gave him a brutal shove towards the hatchway.

"Alright Mr. Vorcha, once the last of the crew is across you can bring the passenger's up. I want to be underway as soon as possible."

"Alright, I'll go and bring the last ones up now."

As Vorcha descended the hatchway stairs his attention was drawn to a commotion below in the hold, the sound of raised voices reaching his ears.

"I said where the hell is he? Answer me!"

"Honestly I don't…" the second voice was cut off abruptly and replaced with hoarse coughing.

He caught sight of half a dozen marines clustered around the lower hatchway below him and descended the remaining steps at speed.

"What's going on here?" the group parted to let him through. Down below he could see Varus sagging against the side, one hand clasped across his stomach. A marine stood near him, clenched fist held out before him. A second marine was keeping the remaining crew at bay with a drawn cutlass and dagger. All eyes turned to the corporal as he descended into the hold.

"It's the elf sir," the marine who had struck Varus spoke first, "he's gone missing, we can't find him anywhere."

"What! When did you find this out?"

"Just now sir, I've been trying to get this lot to talk but they insist they do not know where he is."

"Really now," this was troubling. If the elf was still alive then he must be found quickly, the last thing they needed was a hidden enemy running amok. "Do you know where he is captain?"

Varus shook his head, "he wasn't with us when I was sent down here. I assumed he had been killed."

Vorcha's eyes bored into him over the black scarf that always covered his face. _Why does he wear that thing, does he have a scar or something?_

Vorcha studied the remaining men in the hold. Along with the captain there were fourteen sailors, including Richard Armittage and Jonas, the master's mate who had been wounded during the final stages of the fight. The arrow shaft was still protruding from his shoulder, but he appeared to have staunched the bleeding by using his shirt as a bandage. Also in evidence were the two male passengers, the traders who had boarded the ship at Magritta.

"Where is he?"

"I told you we don't know."

Vorcha moved to stand over Jonas, reached down, took a grip on the arrow shaft and gave it a twist. The movement made Jonas scream and brought fresh blood spurting from the wound.

"Leave him alone, we're telling the truth!" Richard grabbed the corporal's shoulder in an effort to pull him away. One of the two marines promptly struck the sailor across the neck and he collapsed to the floor.

"Do that again and you're a dead man," Vorcha gave the shaft another twist, pinning Jonas down with a knife pressed against his throat. "Perhaps you didn't understand what I was saying, does this make it clearer."

"Stop it," the pain in Jonas's voice was gut-wrenching, "please…"

"You can stop me quite easily, just tell me what I want to know and give up the elf."

"We don't…aaargh!...I swear…on my life…."

Vorcha studied the sailor for a moment, and then glanced at the others. These men were either convincing liars or else they were telling the truth. Besides these tactics were getting him nowhere and now that he thought about it this ship was not large and if the elf was still at large then he should not prove too difficult to find. No, there was no sense wasting time right now, better to isolate the problem and attend to it at their leisure. _One problem at a time I think. _He motioned to the other marines.

"Take this lot on deck and have them sent over. You can take the women up as well, no need to keep them back any longer. As for this man, put him in one of the cabins and have his wound attended to. We may need his navigation skills later."

"Yes sir."

Vorcha ascended the steps, moving to one side to allow the prisoners to be brought up and led away.

Armittage helped the injured Jonas up the stairs, but upon reaching the top deck he was obliged to relinquish this task to a waiting marine who led the wounded man away to the foredeck cabins.

Vorcha motioned for the last two marines to join him. "Listen carefully you two, I do not care what Varus said, I know that the elf definitely fell into this hold. And if he is not here now then that means he is not dead and is somewhere at large on this ship. This is the only entrance into the hold and you two are to stand guard here until I say otherwise. If you see or hear anything suspicious then raise the alarm but do not go down there unless I order it-understand?"

"Yes sir."

"Good, now stay alert."

A-A-A.

The knock on the cabin door pulled Ellaine out of her reverie. She rose from the bed as Vorcha entered and gave her a curt nod.

"It's time to send you to the galley Miss Brionne; I trust you will not give me any trouble."

"Would there be any point?"

"None," he handed her a grey cloak which she recognized as he own, "it's cold up top."

Ellaine considered refusing the offer, but then thought better off it. She took the cloak and fastened it about her shoulders. "Where is my maid?"

"In her cabin, she will be staying here. I fear that in her weakened condition she will be best off where she is for the time being."

"I will not leave without her."

"You have no choice."

"Now just…"

"Enough! Will I be forced to bind your hands and gag you? Get up top now!"

For a moment Ellaine glared at him defiantly, but then lowered he gaze, "if any harm comes to her…"

Vorcha fingered his sword, "I will not ask you again."

He followed her out through the door and along the corridor. Ellaine cast her eyes about, taking in the blood stains splattered across the walls and floor, the discarded weapons and the occasional groans of the wounded drifting towards her from the rear cabins. Only the bodies of the dead had been cleared away.

"What have you done with the crew?"

"They have already gone to the galley, you should be thankful that you will be in rather different quarters from them. You will be joining the other two ladies when we get on deck. I suppose the commodore will want to speak with the three of you at some point."

"And the elf, Joseph, where is…"

"He cannot help you or anyone else now my lady; if I were you I'd be more concerned about my own safety."

Ellaine felt a stab at her heart at these words. _This cannot be. _But she had seen him fall, him and so many others. The traitors had done their work well.

The marine had been right-it was cold up on deck. Instinctively Ellaine drew the cloak more tightly about herself. Her gaze was drawn to the galley alongside the _Vulture_. It was hard to believe that this small vessel was the one responsible for her current predicament. Next to the merchantman she was dwarfed, her forecastle and quarterdeck barely level with the _Vulture's _main deck and her masts looked small and insignificant beside the merchantman's massed forest of rigging. Even now it was hard to believe that such a vessel could seize a prize this large.

She saw Julia Ormorond and Jane Guthrie standing together by the mainmast, doing their best to keep out of the way of the crew who openly leered at them, though without attempting to approach them. Julia smiled when she caught sight of Ellaine and gave a relieved wave.

Ellaine's attention was drawn to the guardrail as first one gloved hand and then another appeared over the rim. With a grunt Heider hauled himself over the rail and moved towards Vorcha, but before he could reach his corporal Ellaine intercepted the marine, blocking his path.

"Ah Miss Brionne, my apologies that you have been kept waiting this long, but if you and the other ladies will just wait by the guardrail I promise that I'll have a cargo sack rigged up to transfer you all over to the galley shortly."

Ellaine kept a civil tone, trying to conceal her dislike of the man, "Mr. Heider, I must request that I be allowed to stay here with my maid. She is not well enough to be moved and I cannot in good conscience leave her alone on this ship."

"Is this true Vorcha?"

"Aye sir, the maid is not yet strong enough to be moved, and Miss Brionne is concerned about her safety."

"I see, well I can understand your concern but I'm afraid it will not be possible for you to remain. The commodore has given strict orders to the contrary. But you need not worry about your maid my lady. The commodore enforces a very strict policy about women on board his ships. No harm will come to your maid and I give you my word that I will personally cut the throat of the first black-hearted scoundrel that lays a hand on her. Will that satisfy you?"

"I suppose I must accept your word."

"Yes, now go."

Reluctantly the Bretonnian allowed herself to be led away in the direction of the galley.

"Report Mr. Vorcha, have you made this ship secure?"

"Some of the men are at work repairing the steering and the prisoners have all been transferred. With your permission I've decided to keep the injured master's mate on board-I thought we might have need of his navigation skills later."

Heider nodded his consent, "a wise choice. So everything has gone well then?"

Vorcha lowered his voice, "not everything sir, the elf is missing."

"What?"

"His body was not found, and he was not amongst the prisoners. We cannot locate him."

"Manaan's trident! That's all we need. Have you begun a search yet?"

"Not yet sir, I've had the hold sealed off and placed guards at every exit including the stern windows. I thought that perhaps we should remove the prisoners and consolidate our position first before mounting a search."

"Yes, that would be best. I'll leave you to assign everyone their respective tasks. And have the guards checked regularly, I don't want them being left alone for too long. If the elf is alive we must give him no avenue for escape."

"I've already told them not to investigate anything suspicious unless ordered otherwise."

"Good, I'll assess the situation myself later. Dismissed."

"Yes sir."

Heider turned and climbed the steps to the quarterdeck, observing a group of corsairs working to fit a replacement for the ship's shattered wheel. Muktara glanced up as he approached, "I've noticed that you're men seem to be acting suspicious. Is there something amiss?"

"It would seem that one of the passenger's remains unaccounted for. He was not amongst the dead, nor is he with the prisoners." There was no sense to keeping quiet about the matter.

"Really, will that be a problem?"

"Nothing we can't handle."

"We shall see."

-AAA-

TBC.


	24. Discussions, Agreements and Beatings

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop and am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

Thanks for the reviews everyone, I always find it good motivation to know that people have been reading my work. Please keep them coming. Now to my replies-

pacificuser: I'm glad you enjoyed, and I'm glad to hear the people at the nursing home liked my story. I must admit I'm my own worst critic so I really appreciate knowing that people think my writing is good. Hope I continue meeting expectations (and don't worry, the vampire will make its first appearance very soon).

omega red: thanks, I'll certainly do my best. Hope this new chapter is okay.

fatima foz: good point, before I get the next chapter up I'll see about making a few adjustments to a couple of the chapters, and I'll see if I can write a list into one of the other chapters. I'll let you know which ones in the next chapter. And don't worry, I have the rough drafts ready and I fully intend to get this story finished-it will certainly not take another year this time.

hornblower: you are partly right about the galley. The pirate vessels that appear in this story are war galleys. I think most people associate the galley with the ships used by the ancient Greek and Romans, but they actually continued in service for many centuries after this period. The design of galleys evolved continuously through the ages (see _Wikepedia_ on the internet under 'Galley' for a description of this) but I have tried to model the ones in this story upon the sort that would have been in use around the 18th century. They have two decks of oars like the real galleys of this time, but they are shorter than the real galleys which might be up to thirty two feet in length. I am actually going to be adjusting the descriptions in some of the previous chapters to state that they have two masts instead of one, as it seems most galleys carried two sails by the age of sail.

The galley was not extinct by the age of sail and it continued in use in the Mediterranean into the 18th century, but the introduction of the galleon did mean that it was phased out as the main vessel in the fleet. However navies continued to make use of it in various roles and it was the main ship of the Barbary Corsairs. The reason for their retention was due to the advantages they had over sailing ships-they were not dependant on the wind and so could not be 'becalmed' if the wind ceased to blow, they could use small coves and beaches as harbors, operate in water as little as one meter deep (including rivers) and could even be transported overland. It was ideal for coastal raids and engaging larger ships when there was no wind blowing. It was quite a formidable ship in my opinion.

A-A-A.

"Pull you swabeys, pull" the overseer strode up and down the catwalk, eyes roaming over the mass of naked backs of the slaves below. Abruptly he turned and swung the cat-o-nine tails against the nearest man, the knotted cords instantly drawing blood, "faster!"

Grunwald glared at the overseer's back, looking away quickly before the man turned and saw him. Gloomily the boatswain ran his gaze along the row of backs in front of him, white and black skins glistening with sweat and in a number of cases blood, both fresh and congealed. All bore witness to their captor's brutality.

Conditions had rapidly become unbearable since they had been brought onboard the galley two days previously, with the corsairs seemingly going out of their way to acquaint their new prisoners with the legendary brutality they were known to inflict upon their galley slaves. Once on board the crew had all been herded below decks, mercilessly jeered and bullied by their captors as they went. They were then stripped of everything but their trousers, any resistance being met with further beatings. This done roughly half of the survivors had been scattered amongst the slaves, with the remainder being herded further below decks to the deepest part of the hold and they were now probably locked away in some dark hole where they would stay until one of the slaves on the oars passed out or became too weak to continue and collapsed. Then a new slave would be bought up from below to take his place and the unfortunate wretch unceremoniously dumped over the side.

The galley itself was a large vessel for her class. Grunwald estimated her to be just over sixty feet in length, not including the ship's underwater ram. Although small when compared to the _Vulture's _ long hull she was still a formidable vessel. She had three oar decks, each containing more than sixty pairs of oars, and each oar was operated by four men, all chained to their seats with iron manacles. Forced to row continuously throughout the day the slaves were not permitted to leave these seats. Sleeping (when they were able to), eating and relieving themselves were all done where they sat and by now all the slaves had been reduced to sitting in pools of their own filth. Having four men on an oar only made the situation worse and offered no chance of rest-the moment one man showed signs of slackening he was spotted by the overseers and roundly whipped until he had picked up the pace.

In the stifling midday heat the temperature was almost unbearable and the foul stench of blood, urine, sweat and fasces which had accumulated within the confined space assaulted his nostrils with every breath. The deck space on either side of the catwalk was barely large enough for a man to stand upright-not that it would have helped if it had been; for the slaves were not allowed to stand up most of the time, let alone walk around. The ports through which the oars were placed provided nowhere near enough ventilation and at times even Grunwald wanted to vomit. Only the knowledge that he would be forced to sit in the resulting mess for the rest of the voyage gave him the willpower to hold it in.

He was the second man in line on his own oar. Young Erard sat to his right and directly in front of them was Gerwain. He did not know where the others were. The boatswain wondered whether they were all currently experiencing the same brutalization as he and his two companions were been put through.

It was likely that they were. The overseer of their part of the deck seemed to have taken a particular dislike to the trio. Striding about the raised catwalk that separated the port and starboard slaves he would frequently stop to administer a brutal whipping. All three sailors now had backs that were caked in dried blood and Grunwald was becoming concerned about Erard whose strength seemed to be slowly fading. The youth's complexion had become very pale and now he was only just keeping pace.

"You there brat, pick up the stroke!"

Erard cringed as the cat struck him heavily across the face, lifting his arms in a vain attempt to ward off the storm of blows being directed his way.

"Oi, leave him he's only a boy!"

The overseer turned his attention to Grunwald, "don't like seeing this do you? Well then you can take the boy's punishment for him!" The cat flicked out again, its knotted ends striking Grunwald hard across the back. The boatswain gritted his teeth against the assault, knowing that retaliation was the worst thing he could do. With some difficulty he managed to ignore the blows and focus on the task of rowing. Eventually the overseer seemed to tire of his 'sport' and stalked away in search of another victim. Grunwald took a deep breath, forcing the stinging pain in his back and his right arm to the back of his mind. He'd had worse after all.

"Thank you for that bosun, I was nearly finished."

Grunwald might have risked giving the lad a reassuring pat but his hand felt too unsteady to take it away from the support of the oar, "you stick with me lad, we'll get through this somehow." Even as he spoke the words Grunwald felt the bitter taste of a lie. For the last two days he had been running their situation over in his mind again and again, desperately searching for a means of escape.

None presented itself, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to think as his own worries began to prey increasingly upon his mind. The man seated to his left, a middle-aged Arabian named Ahmed Al-Harrad, had been able, through discreet conversation, to give him some idea of the life they could expect as galley slaves. As long as this ship was at sea, which could be anything up to one hundred days, they would be forced to row continuously, only being allowed to eat and rest if the ship was at anchor. Rations would be poor, consisting almost exclusively of the thin gruel they had been fed since capture. And although they would be let off the ship in port there would be no rest. Once ashore galley slaves would be forced to do hard labor and any other tasks their masters deemed necessary.*

It would be sheer bloody hell.

Ahmed had been a merchant sailor on an Arabian trader that the pirates had taken six months previously. Those six months had been spent hard at work either mining in a quarry or at work in the galleys. The constant labor had taken its toll on him-the man now had a deep haggard look to his eyes and his bare back was a mass of scars.

_Is this what is to become of us?_

A-A-A.

"Now tell me, exactly why is this object of such interest to you?"

Atcher stared down at the small wooden box on the commodore's table, his finger's twitching nervously, "in all honestly I do not know, I was only told about it when the ship was in Magritta and I'm afraid that Damar was rather sparing with the details. All he would say was that it holds value for the company. All that I know is that some of our partners-the Raphael brothers-placed it aboard the _Marienburg_ some ten years previously to be transported to Magritta, but it never got there."

"Ah', Wolfe's face remained impassive, "the _Marienburg_, I was interested to learn of your encounter with her. Rather fortunate that this was one of the few items you were able to salvage wouldn't you say?"

"Yes, just as it was fortunate we were able to procure it on board the _Vulture_."

"Yes, very fortunate."

"And you have no idea what is in this box?"

"Only what I have been told, and that is not very much."

"Then perhaps it is as well that you were not given any opportunity to obtain this item prior to our meeting. I have looked at this item closely Mr. Atcher, and it rather surprises me that any sane merchant company would be transporting something such as this. The sign of which you speak is the eight pointed star of Chaos, which I am sure you have worked out by now. What you may not know is that at one point in my past my…occupation required that I seek out and destroy items such as this," here he reached out, took the box in his hands, opening the lid to reveal the item inside, "look closely."

Atcher stared at the object within, a pale green stone carved into the shape of a flat octagon. The box glowed with a strange pale light and on the centre of the stone was carved a single eight-sided star in runes that appeared to glow bright red. Atcher had no sooner registered these details when the captain snapped the lid closed and returned it to his desk.

"I know the foul taint of Chaos when I sense it, and it resonates very strongly from within this box. This _item,_ Mr. Atcher, bears the enchantments of Nurgle, the Chaos god of disease and decay. I have not had time to determine its exact enchantment but given what seems to have happened to the _Marienburg_ I do not mind admitting that all my instincts are telling me to consign this _thing_ to the ocean's depths."

"No, you cannot do that…"

Wolfe raised his eyebrows, a warning. "Tread carefully young fop, I have warned you before."

The nobleman calmed himself with an effort. "Forgive me, but…I _beg_ that you consider your decision carefully. The item has great value to the company and although Damar did not tell me what the item itself can do he made it very clear that if it had been salvaged from the _Vulture_ then I was to recover it at all costs. The company places great value on the stone, and I am sure they would be willing to pay handsomely for its return."

A look of amusement flickered across commodore's face, 'it may surprise you but there are some things money cannot buy. An item such as this should not be allowed to exist."

Atcher decided to try a different tack, "perhaps, but remember that the company has supported you for some years now and has provided you with information regarding the movements of our competition's shipping, indeed I'm told that it is thanks to our company that you occupy the position you now occupy, nay that you are still alive. I do not believe they would react very kindly if they learnt that you had deprived them of this item."

"I suppose they wouldn't, assuming that is that they were ever to find out. You still don't seem able to grasp who is in command here my dear sir, or how perilous your situation may turn at my whim." He picked up the box and placed it inside a desk draw, "this item remains in my charge for now. I will consider your points, which I do concede are valid. When I have made my decision you will be informed. Now get out."

Atcher could tell from the man's tone that further argument would not be well received and with a curt bow he withdrew from the cabin.

Wolfe sat in silence for several moments, mulling over the conversation. As much as he hated to admit it the nobleman had been right, and in truth it did not greatly concern him what became of the gem. However it could make a useful bargaining tool if used carefully. With the pirate king elections coming up in five months all the ambitious captains were pooling their wealth to acquire votes and Wolfe did not intend to miss out on such an opportunity. And to bribe the ruling council required plenty of gold.

_The things I have to do for a position of power._

A-A-A.

Julia Ormorond jerked awake as the ship dipped into a particularly deep trough. Sitting in the chair opposite her Ellaine stuck out a foot, bracing it against the wall to prevent her chair sliding forward. After several months at sea she had learnt to anticipate the motions of the waves, how best to brace against the ship's roll and to shift her balance before the reverse-roll could throw her backwards as the ship climbed out of the trough. Her two companions had not been so fortunate and were still being caught out on occasion. Only the other day Julia had lost her balance and been sent flying, cutting her lip and opening up a tear in her dress, much to the amusement of the corsairs.

"It's allright Julia, you're in the cabin."

"Ellaine," she looked around nervously, "where's Jane?"

"She's out taking a walk on deck, and she's fine. You know that the corsairs have orders not to harm us."

"That doesn't give me much comfort my dear, you only have to look at their eyes to see what they're thinking. They probably haven't seen a woman in weeks."**

"I would be surprised if they could get near a woman, their smell alone is repugnant."

Julia smiled at that, "yes, they would certainly never have been allowed into the Imperial court."

An uneasy silence descended, with the two women listening to the sound of running feet and the various sounds of shipboard life.

"How's your head?"

"It's fine," Ellaine rubbed the sore spot and tried not to wince. The blow she'd taken during the fight had raised quite a lump and the bruise was still painful, "I don't notice it anymore."

"Do you…"

The conversation was interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Before either woman could move it was opened by a large, dark-skinned man with a jagged scar across his face.

"Which of you is Brionne?" his tone was low and harsh.

"I am," Ellaine met his gaze.

"The commodore will see you now, get your cloak."

A-A-A.

"Stroke, and rest."

With a unanimous sigh of relief the slaves let go of their oars, many collapsing onto them in sheer exhaustion as the ship glided to a halt.

"Right you scum," the overseer folded the cat neatly around his hands, "rest for now and we'll be on our way before dark. Rations will be dished out shortly.

"Lucky us," Gerwain muttered irritably.

Grunwald glanced with concern at Erard's slumped form "are you okay lad?"

"Sir," the boy was too exhausted to say more.

A-A-A.

Ellaine entered the cabin warily, cloak drawn about herself. She had seen the commodore from a distance on several occasions during her walks about the ship but this was the first time she had met the man up close. As she entered he got up from behind the desk and moved over to a cabinet. Ellaine watched him move, noting the effortless grace of his walk. It was a walk that spoke of someone who knew how to handle himself. She noted the man's tall, broadly built figure, the neatly shaved head and the broad hardened face with numerous lines around the mouth. It was a face that spoke of years of hardship.

This man would be a formidable opponent.

"Please take a seat my lady," he gestured to one of the chairs, "can I offer you a drink?"

After two days of being cramped in a small cabin with her two fellow passengers Ellaine felt in no mood to be friendly. "No thank you captain, I will not take a drink. And I would prefer to stand."

"Sit down!"

The tone was sharper this time, and in the eyes she could read an unspoken warning. Reluctantly she took the chair. Wolfe poured himself a measure of brandy, closed the cabinet door and returned to his seat.

"Now my lady, I suppose you are wondering why I summoned you here."

"The thought did cross my mind captain."

"On board this ship you will kindly address me as commodore," Wolfe took a small sip from his tankard, "the reason that I have summoned you here is to discuss your future."

"My future?"

"Yes, you see I am currently faced with something of a dilemma Miss Brionne. It is standard practice that women such as yourself be ransomed off to their relatives, a practice which naturally nets gentlemen of fortune such as myself a handsome profit and helps to appease the anger of their countries aristocracy. I know that you are a noblewoman of Bretonnia, and therefore that you are wealthy. Am I correct?"

"Yes."

"However you have doubtless become aware of my less than official dealings with Mr. Atcher and, by extension, his father's company. Now you must understand that I would be taking a big risk in letting you go, one that he would not thank me for."

"I can see your dilemma commodore. Might I ask what fate will await me if I am not ransomed off?"

"You will be sold to the slavers in Sartossa. Given a woman of your status, and one who can wield a sword as I am told you can, you could be worth a reasonable sum. Tell me, are you a virgin?" He grinned at her outraged expression, "you are. That is good, it increases you value. And don't look so outraged my dear; after all it guarantees your protection on board this ship. After all I simply cannot allow my crew to damage the goods."

"Damage the…" Ellaine did not like the way this man was addressing her. From the way he spoke it sounded as though he was talking about a piece of cargo, "so what exactly are you going to do with me?"

"I do not know yet, tell me-and I suggest you consider your answers carefully-does your family have great wealth, an estate?"

Ellaine studied him; dislike clear in her voice, "I do."

"So if I was to offer you for ransom to your husband I assume that he would pay."

"I am not married commodore, and my parents are dead. I own and run the family's lands."

Wolfe shrugged, "no matter, I need only address the demand to the officials of your estate whose names you will provide me with, and they can arrange for the ransom. If my demands are met then I think I may agree to send you back to Bretonnia. I doubt your word would count for much within the empire anyway."

"What makes you think I will co-operate with your demands?"

The smile was cruel, "oh you would if I ordered it Miss Brionne, I have ways of persuading you to do so and you will not like them."

"So you are going to torture me if I fail to co-operate are you?"

"No I am not, any damage you sustain lowers your value to me and that is unacceptable. No if you fail to co-operate then I am afraid your precious maid will have to suffer the consequences."

Ellaine flinched visibly at this.

"And from what I have been told she is in no condition to endure such…activities. Will I have to order her to be the bearer of your punishment?"

"No," Ellaine lowered her head in defeat. There was no means of defiance here; Louisa was her friend as well as a trusted servant. She could not risk jeopardizing her life and the commodore knew it. And ransoming was certainly preferable to being sold into slavery. "How much will you demand?"

"Considering what I know of Bretonnian wealth I think about…four hundred pieces of gold. Would you say that is fair?"

Ellaine blanched at this. Four hundred gold pieces! Her estates were not large and the harvests had been poor over the last few years. Such an exorbitant sum, even if it could be raised, would leave her estate bankrupt, easy prey for the nobles who had been casting covetous eyes upon it since her father's death.

"Commodore I am not sure that my estate can generate that kind of money…" she got no further.

"Your estates will pay that ransom in full or the Sartossan slavers will have another prize for their auctions! We will be putting into port tomorrow evening, so I suggest you make use of the intervening hours to find a means to persuade you loyal followers to part with their wealth. Is that clear?"

"Inescapably so."

"Good," Wolfe got up, moved over the stern window and pulled a thin bell-rope. "I'm afraid you will have to leave now, I have to meet with your two friends to discuss their ransoms. However you will join me for dinner tonight, as will your friends."

"Thank you commodore but I must…" again he cut her off.

"That is not a request Miss Brionne. You will attend dinner with me tonight or you will be dining with the crew, and you will be naked."

Ellaine clenched her fists with suppressed fury, rising from her seat so quickly that she almost knocked the chair over. "In that case I'll see you tonight _commodore!_"

"Very good," he looked up at as the cabin door opened to reveal the tall man who had brought Ellaine to the cabin, "ah Bill, show Miss Brionne to her cabin and bring Miss. Ormorond here at once. I have some matters to discuss with her."

"Commodore wait."

"Yes."

"My maid, will she be allowed to return to Bretonnia with me?"

"No, she will be sent to the markets once she is well enough to leave the ship. I understand that Mr. Atcher has expressed an interest in her so she may at least be spared a spell in the slave pits."

Ellaine felt a jolt of horror run through her. She could well remember the look in Atcher's eyes on the night he had accosted them, could remember the venomous looks he had directed their way ever since then. If that bastard got his hands on Louisa she would stand no chance, Ellaine had met men like him before and could only guess at what he would do to her.

"Please commodore, she is my responsibility and Atcher has a grudge against her. I…I beg you please do not sell her, you could at least give me the opportunity to raise a ransom for her."

"No, I am sorry to have to separate you and I can sympathize with your position, but from what you have told me I doubt that you could afford the price that I will get from her on the markets. No I am afraid that will not be possible."

"Commodore please I beg you…" Ellaine could feel the room closing in on her.

"Show her out Bill; if she resists you have my permission to use force."

"Yes sir," the corsair took a firm grip on her shoulder, "you'd better come this way miss."

Ellaine could see that further protestations were useless. She allowed Bill to lead her out, head bowed.

_I'm so sorry Louisa_.

A-A-A.

"Yeah, oh yeah lovely lovely!"

Varus was drifting in sea of pain, his consciousness threatening to slip away. He winced as another rope smacked him hard across the back. By now the pain was beginning to dull although he was still dimly aware of the warm trickle of blood running down his back. Another blow struck him across the face and he gave an involuntary gasp.

"Allright captain sir, don't worry we've got plenty more of this for ya!"

This had been going on since the morning, or at least he assumed it was the morning. Since being taken on board he had been immediately taken below decks and confined to a small pen located in the bow of the hold with half the surviving crewmen. Since then life had rapidly become a nightmare. The prisoners were all kept manacled together, unable to walk about or even stand up. Men relieved themselves where they sat and wallowed in their own filth like pigs, the atmosphere around them foul, humid and filled with the cries of men who prayed for a relief from their never-ending misery. Two men had already died, succumbing to wounds sustained during the battle aboard the _Vulture_. If this continued much longer then more were likely to follow.

Their captors certainly did not seem to care. Once in the hold the captives had been largely ignored, the only time they had been seen was when they had brought the prisoners their rations of gruel and water.

And now Varus had suddenly been unshackled and led out into the back of the hold, a section located behind the prisoner's pen, separated from it by a thin wall and stretching nearly the full length of the galley. His hands bound together and attached to a hook fixed to one of the deck beams. Half a dozen corsairs had then set about him with knotted ropes, laughing and jeering the whole time. His cries as to why they were doing this had received only one contemptuous answer.

"We really just don't like your kind captain."***

Another blow struck his back but Varus did not feel it. As more blood began to flow he slumped gratefully into the dark void of unconsciousness.

This did nothing to appease his tormentors.

A-A-A.

As Ellaine neared the door that opened from the cabin corridor to the galley's main deck it suddenly swung open and she found herself face to face with Atcher. For a moment they both stared at one another, and then Bretonnian leapt at him in a fury. The nobleman recoiled, feeling the woman's fingernails draw blood as they dug into his face. As he fell backwards she brought her knee up into his groin, her right arm drawing back for another blow. Before she could swing at him Bill's hand seized her wrist and pulled her away, a muscled arm going around her neck to place her into a solid choke-hold. Ellaine struggled but could not break his lock.

Atcher gripped his hands to his stinging face, gasping in horror as they came away covered in blood.

"You bitch!" with a scream he leapt for the woman.

His punch struck her in the stomach, driving all the breath from her body. He struck again, this time catching her in the face and Ellaine gave a gasp of pain as his fist caught her eye.

"Restrain him!" Bill pulled the woman clear, interposing his own figure between her and the nobleman.

Instantly two corsairs seized Atcher and pulled him away, slamming the nobleman back against the wall. Seeing his mater's plight Boris, who had been following him to the cabin corridor, drew a long bladed dagger and hastened forward, coming up short as half a dozen corsairs drew their weapons and blocked his path.

"What's going on here?"

At these words all heads turned to the commodore's door. Wolfe had a sword in his hand and wore a look of extreme displeasure on his face. "Speak up!"

Bill released his hold and allowed Ellaine to slump against the wall. She sank to the floor, one hand clasped to her stomach and the other holding her bruised eye. "This woman attacked Atcher, and then when I pulled her off him he returned the favor."

"I see. Well then Mr. Atcher, you had better come to my cabin immediately. Bill, take the woman to her cabin and have her tended to. Bring Miss Ormorond here in fifteen minutes, and you," he gestured to Boris, "if you ever draw a weapon on board this ship without my permission you will go over the side. Right get moving all of you!"

Bill hauled Ellaine up and marched her unceremoniously through the doorway, giving her a sharp shove in the back as she began to sag, "better pray your kin pay up m'lady otherwise you can consider this a small taste of what awaits you."

Determined not to give her captors the satisfaction of seeing her pain, Ellaine forced herself to stand up straight, marching in the direction of the hatchway and trying to ignore the pain in her bruised eye. Her vision was slightly blurred and on two occasions she almost tripped over various shipboard objects, only just keeping her footing.

She was surprised to see that that two of the pirates were clad in dresses, a surprise that turned to anger as she recognized her own clothes, but she made no comment on the matter.**** Descending the stairs to the first oar deck and bypassing the rows of slaves, Ellaine made her way to the stern cabin, opened the door and walked in.

Julia gasped when she saw her friend's condition, "gods Ellaine, what have they done to you?"

Bill tapped Ellaine sharply on the shoulder, "I'll have a pitcher of water sent up for her eye, and you, "he turned to Julia, "will get will get ready to see the commodore in ten minutes."

Julia glared back, "her eye needs to be treated…"

"She can do it herself; better that she learns to deal with the consequences of her actions now."

When he had left Ellaine gratefully sank down onto one of the chairs. Her stomach was less painful now but her eye was beginning to swell.

"What did he mean by that Ellaine?"

The Bretonnian looked up sadly, trying to decide how to prepare her friend for what awaited her.

"Listen carefully Julia, you need to know this…"

A-A-A.

"Tell me Mr. Atcher, was I not clear about how you were to behave during this voyage."

Atcher grimaced as he dabbed his wounds with a handkerchief, wetting it with the brandy he kept in his flask. It stung like hell, but he knew it would clean out the cuts. "You were very clear commodore."

"Indeed and yet for some reason you have not kept to the conditions I laid down."

"The bitch attacked me first."

"And when she was restrained you attacked her. There was no need for you to attack her, indeed it is fortunate that you were stopped from going further or you might have caused her serious harm and lowered her value, and that would have displeased me greatly," Wolfe rose slowly from behind his desk, "I can understand your anger Mr. Atcher, and because you did not instigate the brawl I will not have you punished for this. However for the remainder of this voyage you and your bodyguard may consider yourselves under arrest. Neither one of you is to go anywhere near the women, if you do then I will have the both of you placed in the hold with the prisoners. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes sir," Atcher's reply was voiced through gritted teeth.

"Dismissed."

A-A-A.

With a clink Grunwald's last manacle opened. He glanced around nervously, relieved to see that the overseer was out of earshot. Erard hastily slipped the lock pick back into the hidden patch in his trouser leg. "What now bosun?"

"Now we wait lad, if that rumor is right then we will be anchoring when darkness comes. We must make our move then; otherwise we'll be in Sartosa by tomorrow and if that happens then the game will be up."

"Just give the word bosun," Gerwain kept his voice low, "we're all with you."

A-A-A.

Events on board the _Vulture_ were proving considerably less tumultuous, the corsairs and marines having settled into an easy routine of running the ship and lounging about when off duty, playing various gambling games to pass the time. Only two fights had broken out and both were swiftly put down by their leaders.

"Well Heider, we've completed yet another search and there is still no sign that elf. Don't you think it is time to admit that he is not on board?"

"No," Heider turned to face Muktara, "he is still aboard, I can feel it."

Muktara shrugged irritably, giving the wheel a slight turn to port, "then where is he?"

"I don't know, but I guarantee you he's still here."

"Well that is irrelevant. Even if he is on board there is nothing he can do, the ship is in our hands and as soon as he shows himself he'll have the entire crew down on his head. Come tomorrow evening we'll be in Sartosa and then he can be hunted down at our leisure."

"Maybe, but I'll not take any chances," Heider glanced up at the sun, which was getting closer to the horizon, "my guards will stay at their posts until we enter port."

"As you wish," Muktara glanced up as the master's mate Jonas was led up, his arm in a sling and an armed guard in tow, "ah Mr. Jonas, glad you could join us. We will be anchoring in a few hours and I shall require that you take some star sights."

A-A-A.

The three vessels sailed on for another two hours before sighting their destination, a hidden bay just wide enough to provide an anchorage for the night. _Vulture_ was the first drop anchor, followed by Wolfe's personal galley. Judging that there was no further need for all the ships to remain in company, and knowing how awkward it would be to maneuver all three vessels within the narrow bay, Wolfe ordered his second galley to continue sailing onwards, instructing her captain to meet them in Sartosa the next evening. Hoisting a flag in salute the galley pulled away and was soon swallowed up in the darkness.

A-A-A.

Two hours later one of Heider's mercenary's descended into the ship's hold, nodding to the two sentries standing guard there.

"Where are you going?"

In response the man held up a large bottle of rum and a purse, "I've broken lucky lads, time to go and count my winnings, and I don't want anyone else around when I do it-those corsairs are an shifty bunch."

Both sentries grunted, remembering the ill luck that seemed to have dogged them at the gambling games, "be off with ya then mate."

"Aye lads, I may be some time."

As he descended into the hold the taller sentry jerked a thumb in the man's direction, "lucky bastard."

Neither one of them picked up on the faint scrabbling created by the 'lucky' gambler digging his fingernails into the woodwork, desperately trying to break free of the creature that dragged him backwards. A gnarled, withered hand closed firmly over his mouth, muffling the man's desperate cry as he was pulled back into the shadows. A silence descended on the hold, a silence that broke when a stream of blood spurted from the shadows and splattered the surrounding planks with gore.

Then all was silent once more.

TBC.

-A-A-A-

OOC: * The Barbary corsairs, Muslim pirates who operated from North Africa (known as the Barbary Coast), are some of the best known pirates in history. The galley was one of their primary ships, and one of the primary goals for their raids on land and against ships was to capture slaves. Those captured were sold on the slave markets, ransomed off or put to work on land, or they might end up in the galleys. Many thousands suffered this fate and the high mortality meant there was always a high demand. Though all slaves faced a very harsh life, those on the galleys were probably the most wretched. The conditions Grunwald described are apparently true-when on the galley the slaves were never allowed to leave their seats and any lapse in work would instantly be picked upon by the overseers. Any who were flagging would be severely whipped.

** Despite there being famous examples of women pirates, namely Mary Reid and Anne Bonny, the majority of pirates forbade women on board their ships. Any pirate who broke this rule was either flung over the side, hung from the yardarm or run through. The woman in question would also be lucky to escape alive. It is very true that pirates would spend months or years at sea without seeing a woman. Many overcame this by finding partners amongst themselves, or by hitting the port brothels (and catching very unpleasant diseases as a result.

***Pirate torture could be pretty sadistic, as anyone who reads up on the likes of Bart Roberts and Edward Low will find. Many pirates had once served in the navy and as such had been subject to brutal naval discipline. It was not uncommon for the crew to go for the captain of a captured ship and torture him, before cutting his throat and sending him over the side. It was essentially a means of getting their own back on the officers.

****Pirates often stole the dresses from women prisoners for their own use-it was not uncommon to see a rough tattooed pirate swinging from the rigging wearing the latest lady's fashion. They really would wear just about anything or nothing at all-pirates often went about their trade wearing only what they were born in (especially when sailing in the tropics).

For anyone who wants to find out more I advise check _Wikepedia_ on the internet for information on galleys and the Barbary Corsairs. There is also the book _The Short and Bloody History of Pirates_ by John Farman. These give only a light view of the full story of corsairs and slavery, but they do provide a useful insight into these topics.

A-A-A.


	25. Preparations are made

OOC: Hello everyone, sorry for the delay, but I am back again. And slowly but surely I am inching my way towards finishing this story. Please read and review as always.

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Gamezone Workshop and am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

-A-A-A-

The galley's bell sounded eleven times as the _Vulture's_ launch hooked up alongside the galley and Muktara clambered up the steps. Ignoring the hopeful looks from several pirates he made his way to the captain's cabin and rapped on the door sharply.

"Enter", Wolfe glanced up from the parchment he was reading, "ah Muktara, glad you could make it. I trust that you have completed the inventory I asked for."

"Of course sir, I have it right here," so saying the mate placed a roll of parchment on the desk, "a full inventory of the cargo and its value."

"Good, is it a decent amount of plunder?"

"I would say much more than decent sir. The combined value of it all is far above what we imagined. When you factor in the gemstones and pieces of jade that were taken from the _Marienburg_ we can guess the value to be at least forty thousand in gold."

Wolfe inhaled sharply, "are you certain."

"The quartermaster is sir. Apparently jade is in high demand on the Estallian market and he reckons the gems must be worth at least two times a king's ransom."

"That is good news. I had hopes for some success but I must confess that this is far better than I expected. I do not need to tell you that this could be enough to obtain the final leverage we are going to need."

"You mean the elections sir?"

"Yes, although we will have to share this loot with crew I believe it will still provide us with sufficient funds to secure my place on the council. And of course once I have such a position I will require a trusted lieutenant to help secure my position."

"Well you can trust me sir. Once we have you in power we can then begin the removal of our opponents. Play it carefully and our success will be assured."

Muktara nodded, a smile on his swarthy face, "we've been planning this for a long time. I don't mind admitting that at times I've doubted whether we could succeed but since you made that partnership with the merchants our fortunes have been getting better and better."

"Yes," Wolfe rested his chin on his hands, "one of my better choices, even if their representative is rather irksome."

"We'll be rid of him soon sir, once this is over he'll be on his way back to Miragliano."

"And not before time. Is that woman on the merchantman still alive?"

"Aye sir, she seems to be recovering well."

"Good, we'll be needing her for the slave markets. Sick captives rarely fetch a decent price."

"So you will not be ransoming the captives?"

"We will ransom the women and perhaps the traders, but they will not be sent back once the ransom is paid. Lost in a storm, fever or whatever, we will just have to use our imagination. Not something I particularly care for but we cannot risk our dealings with the merchants becoming public knowledge."

Muktara shrugged, "they are just a few people, what can they do?"

"Great storms begin with the slightest of breezes; a single voice could make enough noise to draw the hunters to us. Remember the church of Morr thinks I am dead. I wish it to stay that way until my position is secured."

"I see your point commodore. We have no choice."

"No, it will be a shame but sometimes such sacrifices are necessary. However I think we will keep this to ourselves for now. They have enough on their minds right now and I am not so inhumane that I would not allow them at least one final night of hope."

"And the rest of the captives?"

"We'll look them over tomorrow. If any make the grade we may extend an invitation to join the crew. I want you to select the fittest to man our oars and the rest will go to the markets." Wolfe took the roll of parchment and, breaking the seal, began to scan its contents. "Thank you for your time."

"Aye sir."

As he turned to leave Wolfe suddenly called him back.

"Oh and by the way Diego, it may interest you to know that I will be dining with the three ladies in two hours. Would you by chance care to join us?"

The replied with a vicious grin, "I'll be sure to attend sir."

"I will expect good behavior of course.

"Aye sir."

-A-A-A-

"Here we go Julia," Ellaine deftly fastened the final string of her friend's corset, "now you had better get your dress on."

"I can't believe we are actually going through with this." Julia's voice was laced with distaste, "I mean it just galls that we have to sit at the same table as that man and make pleasant conversation with him."

"I know Julia and I don't like it any more than you but we don't have any choice in the matter. As long as we are here we have to do as he says."

Jane looked up from where she sat on one of the beds brushing her hair, "he frightens me. It's the look in his eyes, it reminds me of those cats you see in the imperial zoo, they look docile but you feel they are just waiting for a chance to leap at you."

"Don't worry about it Jane, we just have to put up with him for tonight. After that we can be rid of him and back in the Empire once our husbands have paid up." With some difficulty Julia managed to heave her blue dress over her head, "Ellaine I don't suppose you could?"

"Certainly," the Bretonnian proceeded to tighten up the straps around the back of the dress.

"Do you really believe we will be sent back," Jane's voice had a tremor in it, "I mean these are just pirates and I've heard stories about what they will do to women."

"I shouldn't worry my dear," Ellaine forced a smile but it failed to reach her eyes. "He said as much to me and I am sure he will keep his word. The money that he stands to gain from our ransoms is too valuable. Honestly Jane you don't have any reason to be concerned." She felt the bitter taste of the lie, knowing that it would be cruel to extinguish the flame of hope that these two were nursing. They would find out the truth soon enough.

A loud knock drew everyone's attention.

"Come in," instinctively Ellaine smoothed out the folds of the grey dress she had chosen for the evening. It was a simple affair, high collared with an embroidered line running down each sleeve, not her first choice of evening ware but she was in no mood to look her best tonight. Her choice of hair style reflected this, no elegant braids or buns but just a simple ponytail. Her friends were being a bit more generous, both having braided their hair and donned more elegant blue dresses, but even so it was a low-key affair.

The door opened and Boris entered, his bulky frame silhouetted in the doorway against the red glare of the setting sun. "Commodore's respects and he requests your company within the hour."

Ellaine glared at him angrily, "you may tell the commodore that we will be ready shortly."

"I hope so ma'am, he doesn't like to be kept waiting," he closed the door quietly behind him.

Ellaine turned to her friends, "come on ladies, we had better get finished."

"But I haven't had time to apply my make-up," protested Julia.

Ellaine began tightening the final cords on the woman's dress, "then apply a light coating Julia we simply don't have time."

-A-A-A-

TBC.


	26. We have an Accord

OOC: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

My apologies for the late update everyone, but I am getting there slowly. I have made some minor changes to the preceding chapters, including adding dimensions for the ships. If you would like to know these I am afraid you will have to re-read the original chapters.

I was not sure how to write this chapter, but I gave it my best shot and I hope it does not disappoint.

-A-A-A-

_**Two days previously, one hour after the fight. **_

When Joseph finally regained consciousness the first thing that hit him was the splitting pain in the back of his head. It seemed to originate from the top of his crown and spread down from there to jolt his forehead and the base of the neck.

_Oh gods what the hell was I drinking last night?_

He tried to reach back to touch the centre of the pain, pausing when his hand came into contact with solid wood.

_What the..?_

The elf eased his eyes open, only to find that this did nothing to help, it just meant that instead of seeing only blackness he saw only a slightly paler blackness. The experience was unnerving but Joseph was not the sort to panic easily. Breathing deeply he forced himself to focus and was relieved to see the faintest trace of light creeping through the gaps between the planks.

_But how did I get down here? Let's see now, there was the galley. I was down below decks and…what then?_

When he put his mind to it the last thing he could recall was going to investigate the screams coming from the stern cabin, after that it was complete blank. What had happened? How long had he been out for? And why was he here? Who put him here? The smell was terrible, a foul rankness that reminded him of the stench of a three day old corpse-something he had encountered many times over. And now that he reached out to his left he was surprised to feel the rough shapes of rocks and stones.

_What in the..? _

Was he still on the ship? Yes, that was certain-there was no mistaking the gentle rocking motion of a ship at sea or the pounding roar of the surf. But this time the roar was deeper than he had heard before, seemingly coming from all around and even above him at the times. Something wasn't right here, and he was not going to get any answers where he was.

_Only one thing to do I suppose._

Tentatively at first he placed both hands against one of the planks, relieved to find that it was loose.

There was a blur of movement and something encased his right wrist in a steel strong grip, instantly forcing both arms down over his chest. Simultaneously something cold and hard clamped over his mouth, forcing his head to turn to the right. Startled he froze, seeking the assailant. In the dim light he could discern the shape of a pale-skinned humanoid with red eyes and a look so emaciated that could have been a corpse before him.

"Hsst!" the creature hissed.

The elf paused momentarily, before beginning to inch his free hand in the direction of his dagger. Instantly the creature increased the pressure on his wrist, pain flaring under its grip until Joseph was sure the bones would snap. A gasp of pain issued from his lip's, muffled by the creature's hand.

"I know what you are doing, it will avail you not against me," the thing spoke in a deep harsh voice, its putrid breath making Joseph want to gag. "Now lower your arms or I'll snap your neck like a twig."

Joseph hesitated, his gaze holding steady against that of the creature. Slowly, and with some reluctance, he ceased his struggles and after a moment the creature relaxed its grip.

"Listen carefully elf, I intend you no harm but if you make a sound it will surely doom us both and I will not allow this to happen. Our survival depends and silence, do you understand?"

Slowly Joseph nodded.

"Then have a care elf."

The hand was removed from his face and Joseph sucked in a deep breath of air, trying to ignore the foul stench that hung in the air. He focused upon his heartbeat, trying to calm the rapid staccato that it was currently beating out upon his ribs. Years of training and self-discipline took charge and he forced himself to look the creature squarely in the eye. It took all his willpower to resist the hypnotic gaze the thing turned upon him in response.

"What are you?"

"I am nothing to be trifled with, that is all you ever need know of me."

"Why are we here?"

"Hiding."

"From whom."

"Pirates, corsairs to be exact. Probably from Sartossa if that is still its name."

"Sartossa? Then what…?" Joseph rubbed his head, wincing as his fingers grazed over the lump at the back, "what the hell happened to me?" A new thought flashed through his mind and he checked his neck and shoulders.

The creature watched him with amusement.

"Do not worry elf, it gains me nothing to harm you…for the moment anyway."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means exactly that elf. I fear that I cannot stay here much longer before I am discovered and I shall require some help when the time comes to take action."

"Take action?"

"Yes, before we reach the port I must find a way to take control of this ship, and I believe I will require your help in subduing the crew."

For a moment Joseph was too surprised to reply, but he recovered quickly.

"If that is your aim then why not simply summon a fog down upon us. That trick seems to have served you well aboard the _Marienburg_."

The creature gave him a cruel smile. "So you know of the little games I played with that crew. It was quite amusing playing cat and mouse with that pathetic group of fools, watching them run around like chickens when the fox breaks into the cage." The creature made a series of harsh gurgles that sounded faintly similar to chuckles, "I confess that it would amuse me play the pack master with these wretches, but no. I fear that I simply do not have the time for that. I have been able to follow the ship's motions since your battle and I can tell you that we are now sailing south west. I feel sure that this ship will reach Sartossa within the next few days and I do not wish to be taken there."

Joseph was puzzled, "why not? I would have thought that a port where so many people congregate would be exactly where your kind would flourish, and there are not witch hunter cults in the city that I know of. I would have thought you would be eager to get to such a place."

"My reasons are none of your concern. Suffice to say that it is imperative that I am not taken into that port and so I must make sure that this ship does not reach it."

"Then why do you need my help," another thought suddenly crossed the elf's mind "why not simply call a fog down upon us? I remember reading in the _Marienburg's _log about strange fog that descended without warning, and I think I would be correct in guessing was due to you." The creature was silent. "Surely that would prevent the corsairs reaching their destination and you could then pick them off at your leisure?"

"I am afraid there is no time for such games. The pirates will assuredly know this coastline and could probably find a way to reach harbor even in dense fog. In any case I do not believe that I can maintain such a fog and deal with such a large crew-it would simply require too much focus on my part to allow me to deal with the corsairs in time".

Joseph was not fooled, "you mean you are weaker than you were back then. You lack the strength to invoke such magic and cannot be sure of overcoming the crew without my help."

The creature hissed sharply, anger flaring in its eyes and for a moment the elf feared that he had gone too far.

But slowly the anger receded and was replaced with a look of annoyance, "Believe what you will elf, suffice to say that I require your assistance in the task at hand. Are you prepared to give it?"

"And if I don't?"

"Then I will snap your neck and drain you dry."

"Hmmm," Joseph gave a humorless smile, "you make an irresistible offer, but what make you so sure I can be trusted. How do you know that I will not simply turn on you once we begin our attack?"

"Your so called comrades tried to kill you. Once we begin the attack they will certainly try to do so again and you will have little choice but to fight beside me. And even if you did then believe me when I say that I have more than enough power to kill you, and I will do so as soon as I perceive you to be a threat."

"I suppose that seems reasonable, but in the unlikely event that we prove to be successful what will become of me? You need me right now but once my usefulness has ended what is to stop you killing me vampire?"

The vampire gave another rasping chuckle, "you think of everything don't you elf. Well to answer your question there will be nothing to prevent me from killing you, but I will make you an offer. I do not wish to land at Sartossa, but I think that it is time to end my long voyage and return to the land. I cannot do this alone, nor do I think the crew of this ship would be kindly disposed towards me if they are freed. If you will help me dispose of the crew of the corsairs on this ship we will then make our move against the galleys that attacked you. Once the ship is ours I will return to my position here, all I require from you is your silence on my presence until we reach our original port of destination."

"You expect me to help smuggle you into a crowded seaport and leave you free to wreak havoc on the populace?" Joseph's tone was amused, not outraged.

"Yes. I know that you are a mercenary and I seriously doubt the safety of those people in the port really matters to you. Look at it this way, I am simply offering you a new contract, aid me and I will help you to free your travelling companions and reach your destination safely. The payment will be your life and freedom, unless of course you would like to try your chances with me or else end up in a slave galley."

Joseph turned his head to gaze at the pale slants of light seeping in through the floorboards. Finally he spoke, "how do I know that I can trust you?"

The vampire brought its haggard face closer to his, its eyes narrowed, "you don't. But you have no choice."

"Well when you put it like that."

"Then we are in agreement. I have your word?"

"One condition first, if we happen to free any of this ship's crew they are not to be harmed."

"They are important to you elf?"

"They are nothing to me, but when I signed on I gave my word that I would endeavor to protect them for the duration of the voyage. That contract has not yet ended. And I believe that I would be mistaken in guessing that you had something to do with the seamen and marines we lost during the storm. You wouldn't know anything about why that happened would you?"

"No," the voice was tinged with irritation.

Joseph did not believe him but he saw no point in pressing the matter, "If you break our bargain I will know about it."

The vampire gave a derisive snort in reply but Joseph pressed on, "those are my conditions vampire, take them or leave them."

The vampire flexed its claws in irritation, "as you wish elf, then we have an accord?"

"We do," the two shook hands and Joseph winced as the thing nearly crushed his fingers, "but our agreement is void if you harm the crew."

"Hmph, I shall bear that in mind."

The two lapsed into silence, each becoming wrapped in their own thoughts. Finally Joseph turned his head and broke the silence.

"What should I call you?"

"My name is of no importance to you elf".

"I need to have something to address you by."

The creature shrugged, "then I suppose you may call me Druo."

"Druo?"

"It was someone I once knew. It will be…amusing to use his name."

"As you wish," Joseph leaned his head back, his hand moving up to push away some heavy stones that formed part of the ship's ballast*. "So this is where you have been hiding all this time," he rolled his eyes, "wonder why I never thought of that?"

"Lack of imagination I suppose elf".

"Maybe, I must be losing my touch."

"As amusing as your attempts at conversation are proving elf, I think that our time would be better spent planning our next move."

"As you wish," Joseph shifted his slender frame in an effort to make himself more comfortable, "I don't suppose you have come up with any plans whilst I was asleep."

"Nothing specific, although we must be sure to time our attack carefully, if the entire crew comes down on our heads then I have doubts about our ability to hold them off. But whatever we do we must make our move soon."

Joseph threw him a puzzled look, "why do you say that?"

"Let us just say that I can…sense our distance from that port, and I have been able to overhear snatches of conversation from our uninvited guests. Based on the available facts I would guess that we are three or four days distant from Sartossa."

"Good, at least that will give us some time to plan our attack. We had better wait till nightfall though, that should make it easier for me to avoid detection." _And of course you won't be able to leave the hold until then_.

"Agreed, but the corsairs will have noticed your absence by now. When they don't find you they may post guards in the corridors."

"Can you do something about that?"

"We cannot risk killing any of them elf, not until the time is right."

"That is not what I meant. I have read that you kind is said to have hypnotic abilities. Could you not mesmerize them, give me a chance to slip past?"

"Hmph, I suppose that would not be too difficult. Humans are very easily deceived and controlled; unlike your race they lack strong willpower. Yes elf I believe I can give you your chance."

"Good, then this is what I suggest…"

A-A-A

TBC.

OOC: * Ballast refers to the stones and rocks that were placed in the very bottom of a ship. They were placed in a sealed section that lay between the keel and the very bottom deck/storage space and which ran the entire length and width of the ship. Its purpose was to help keep the ship upright.

-A-A-A-


	27. The Cats Out of the Bag

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop and am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

-A-A-A-

The twin moons shone brightly in the cloudless sky, illuminating the two ships below in a pale light. The few corsairs that were lounging about on the decks cast wary glances at the waning sign of Morsleib, wary of the omens such a moon might portend. Most of the men however were occupying themselves below decks drinking and playing cards. With their destination now less than a day away and mindful of a nervous crew, Wolfe had decided to allow the men some extra rations of rum and as a result many were in high spirits, discussing plans on how to spend their share of the plunder once they were ashore.

Muktara smiled as he caught snippets of a drinking song wafting up through the galley's hatchway. For all his insistence upon keeping tight discipline the commodore seemed to understand the need to allow the men to have some fun. Personally he saw no harm in this either, provided they were still sober enough to sail come the morning.

Suddenly a dull clang split the night air as the ship's bell began to toll, its beat instantly joined by another as the men aboard the _Vulture_ began to toll their own bell. Muktara studied her dark silhouette, not for the first time reflecting upon how lifeless she now appeared with her sails furled away and with only the night watch on deck. With the light from the twin moons bathing the merchantman she had a strangely haunted look about her. The mate shivered involuntarily, for reasons he could not put his finger on the scene looked quite eerie.

The sound of footsteps wafted up from the hatch and a thin, swarthy man who wore a white turban around his head emerged, followed by four others. He approached Muktara and the two exchanged salutes.

"Night watch reporting sir, thought we'd get an early start."

Muktara nodded, "good, you should have a quiet night but if anything does occur let me know"

"Aye aye sir."

Muktara descended the steps and made his way towards his cabin. He had, he estimated, fifteen minutes to make himself presentable for dinner. He allowed himself a small smile. _Best not keep the ladies waiting_.

-A-A-A-

Louisa awoke with a start as the door was flung open, yellow torchlight flooding into the room and almost blinding her. She blinked rapidly in an effort t to clear her vision, managing to make out the stocky figure of one of the marines.

"Well well, what have we hear," the man paused to take a draught from his tankard, "a lost little filly by the looks of things. Say love, me and the lads is just havin a wee drink and we wondered if you'd care a join us out here?"

"I thank you for your kind invitation sir but I must…"

She got no further.

"Now now miss," seizing her by the hair the man dragged her out of bed, drawing an involuntary scream of pain from the young woman. "There are rules about how we can treat lady prisoners but what the commodore don't know won't hurt him I reckon." Ignoring Louisa's whimpers of pain the corsair dragged her out through the door, and then up the ladder onto the crowded mess-deck above.

-A-A-A-

"He's been a long time in there; you don't think he's passed out do you." The taller of the two sentries gestured down into the _Vulture's_ hold.

"Could be mate, he's been in there for nearly half an hour." The marine cupped his hands together and bellowed down into the hold. "Oi, you alright down there mate?"

Both men cupped a hand to their ears but there was no answer.

"Looks like you may be right Jacques, just wait here and I'll go and have a look."

Jacques laid a firm hand on his friend's arm, "hang on a minute mate you heard the captain. We are not to go scouring the hold…"

"…in the event that we see or hear anything suspicious. I hardly think a bit of drunken revelry would count as something suspicious." Martin jumped down into the hold, "I'll just be a minute."

Jacques rolled his eyes, "make sure you are-and don't go supping at the booze."

Martin moved slowly into the gloom, his eyes searching for signs of their fellow marine amongst the crates and sacks that were piled high in the ship's hold.

"Bors, Bors can you hear me?" He cursed as his foot struck a particularly heavy crate and only just kept his balance, "when I find you I'll throw you in the salt barrel! Bors…ah there you are."

Spotting a pair of booted legs sticking out from behind a large crate Martin moved further into the gloom, idly wandering if it would be possible to filch a couple of coins for himself if the man turned out to be drunk and unconscious.

It was then that he saw the blood.

-A-A-A-

Jacques peered into the gloom. "Martin? What the devil's going on down there?" For a moment all was silent, and then a wheezing cough met his ears. "What the..?" He broke off as a shape detached itself from the shadows, the pewter tankard clattering from its fingers. The figure staggered forward in an effort to retrieve the tankard, tripped on a loose plank and fell flat on its face. Shaking his head the marine gave a relieved sigh as he recognised the clothes worn by the missing marine.

Jacques chuckled heartily. _I guess that answers one question_. He descended the last few steps and move over to the sprawled figure.

"Come on you drunken sod," he took a firm grip upon the man's tunic and hauled him up.

A pair of sightless eyes greeted him, set into a face locked into an eternal scream. The marine drew away in alarm and for the first time he noticed that the man's white tunic had now turned a dark shade of red.

"He was quite tasty."

Jacques looked up and froze with horror as skeletal shape seemed to materialise from the darkness before him. Before the marine realised what was happening the creature's hands had seized his neck. With a sickening crack it snapped the vertebrae and sank its fangs into the marine's jugular, drinking deeply.

-A-A-A-

The vampire wiped its bloody lips clean with a rag. "That was fortunate indeed. For a moment I feared he was not going to come down."

The elf brushed past him, a blood-stained knife in hand. "We've no time to dwell upon it Druo, let's get moving before their replacements come."

The pair clambered up the ladder quickly but silently, listening carefully for approaching footsteps. When none came they headed for the stern, slipping through the corridor which contained the passenger's cabins. Three of these were occupied, each inhabitant clearly the worse for wear. Joseph dispatched two of them without pause, clamping a hand over each man's mouth to muffle their gurgled cries as his knife sliced through skin and flesh to cut open the jugular vein. On exiting the cabin he grimaced in disgust upon seeing Druo feasting upon the third unfortunate marine, now hanging limp in the creature's skeletal arms.

"Do you have to do that right now?"

Druo tossed the victim aside, running a red tongue over his bloody lips, "I have to eat, it's them or you-make your choice."

They checked the remaining cabins and found they were all empty although the unmade state of the beds indicated that they had been used recently. The two figures quickly darted towards the bow of the ship, finding the main storage deck between the fore and aft cabins empty save for a lone sentry whom Joseph felled with a well thrown knife in the side of the neck. Again Druo insisted on drinking his fill before hiding the body behind a stack of crates.

They sprinted the remaining distance and searched the rest of the lower deck, but there was no one about.

"All right elf, now we take the next deck," Druo ascended the ladder that led to the deck beneath the forecastle and slowly eased the heavy hatch upwards. His eyes scanned the gloom but there was no movement. In a flash he was on the upper deck, had reached down and had hauled the elf up to join him. Joseph cocked his head to one side, listening to the sound of drunken revelry issuing from the closed doorway that he knew led to mess-deck.

"Check the cabins."

The forecastle cabins were all empty. Joseph ducked into his own, finding his possessions still present save for his purse. Casting a quick glance over his shoulder he dropped to one knee and pried up a loose plank in the corner. He cursed as his probing fingers closed on empty air. _Gods dammit, what else is going to go wrong?_

There was a yelp of surprise from the corridor, followed by a scream of terror.

_I had to ask._

A-A-A

The men in the mess-deck looked up from their activities as Louisa was dragged through the doorway, her muffled shrieks of pain interrupting the drunken revelry. The men glanced at her assailant with annoyance at this interruption. There were thirteen of them present, eight marines and the rest of them corsairs, all of them gathered around three tables engaging in various gambling and drinking games. None of them were particularly happy about having their fun interrupted.

"Look here lads, I've found us a bit of entertainment for the night, reckon we've bloody earned it after what we've been through eh?"

"What are you on about Harry, you know the captain told us not to touch her, and there'll be hell to pay if you disobey him".

"Come on Bill, she's hardly gonna give the alarm, as you can see I've made her secure."

Bill regarded their prisoner, noting the cloth gag strapped across the woman's mouth, and as she was brought closer he could see that her hands were tied behind her back. "Maybe, but she can give us away after the event. You remember what happened last time." He glanced down at his right arm currently resting in its sling. Heider had been clear that if they pulled another stunt like that a sprained arm would be the least of his worries.

"You worry too much mate, who will believe her. All right, I'll admit it went against us before but things are right different now. She's valuable to the slavers an even if the captain finds out I doubt he'll say anything. Why lose face and value over this one?" So saying he slammed the struggling woman down against the table, reached down and dragged the hem of her nightgown up.

Bill was silent, knowing better than to get further involved.

"Now come on lass, behave yourself and you might even enjoy it", Harry's tone of voice was cruel, "but give me any trouble and I promise I'll carve up that pretty little face o' yours," so saying he drew his knife and slammed it down into the woodwork, only just missing her nose.

Louisa almost choked with horror. He meant what he said, like the rest he was full of drunken violence and ready to kill. Even the prospect of his commander's wrath meant nothing at this moment.

_Sweet lady please save me, please…!_

Before Harry could carry out his promise one of the nearby marines clambered up from his seat, "hang on a minute mates, I'll just go and fetch some more o' that wine we found in the captain's cabin". This was greeted with a roar of approval and Harry reluctantly released his hold on the struggling young woman, though not enough to allow her to break free.

"Just be quick about it!"

The marine grinned wickedly as he pulled open the door leading to the forecastle cabins, "no fear mate. This oughta be fun" The man took hold of the doorknob and shoved it open.

He never knew what hit him, having just enough time to take in the ghastly visage before Druo grabbed his neck and snapped the bone as easily as a farmer might pull the neck of a chicken. Picking the sagging figure up in his arms the vampire threw him straight at the nearest table, knocking Harry and two of the corsairs sprawling. Louisa fell clear, instinctively trying to put as much distance between herself and her assailants as possible.

With inhuman speed the vampire lunged for the nearest marine and was sprayed with blood as his claws tore open the man's throat, cutting off the terrified scream almost as soon as it had begun. None of the others had moved yet. Taken totally by surprise, all those remained rooted to their seats. In that dimly lit deck, with the fluttering light of the lanterns illuminating his ghastly pallid features stained with blood, the vampire cut a visage that struck terror into the heart of every man present. But they recovered quickly. The men were seasoned warriors after all and once the initial shock had passed their training asserted itself and every man grabbed for his weapons. Bill ran for the door, his voice raised in alarm.

They were not fast enough.

Druo scythed into their ranks like the bow of ship through a wave. With a bestial roar he lunged forwards, knocked two marines sprawling, seized the nearest table and with an almighty heave ripped it from its supports. Swinging the lump of wood like huge club he caught the closest marine a heavy blow that lifted him from his feet and sent him crashing backwards head first into the wall. The vampire released his hold, letting the improvised weapon spin away towards the stern. It struck Bill in the head, crushing his skull against to wall.

A clawed hand tore one marine across the face, dropping him with a scream of pain. Another lunged forward with a dagger drawn. Dodging the pallid arm he ducked forward and rammed the dagger into the chest, aiming for the heart. His aim was true but Druo merely grunted, lifted the man by the throat and rammed his head upwards against an overhead beam. There was a sickening crunch, a brief convulsion and Druo released his hold. The victim fell to the ground, limp as a boned flesh.

The remaining men charged in around him, trying to utilise their one advantage-superior numbers. One marine charged from the front, boarding pike levelled at the beast. Moving faster than any man could the vampire grabbed the shaft, tearing the weapon from its bearer's grasp. He ducked, hearing a sword whistle through the air above his head. The man he had disarmed screamed when the blade struck him across the forehead. Druo jerked his arm backwards, ramming the pike through the other's belly. He let go the haft and the marine fell to the deck. A scimitar struck the creature's arm, rebounding without drawing blood. Its wielder gaped in disbelief and suddenly found himself on his knees, fingers clawing at the hilt of the knife now protruding from his neck. So intent had they been upon their assailant that none had noticed the tall cloaked figure that materialised through the doorway without a sound.

Joseph raised and dropped both his arms. Two black-bladed knives flashed through the air, two marines fell. Alerted to the new threat Harry swung round, freezing in disbelief. Joseph gave him no chance to react, his thrust taking the man through the heart.

Druo fell back momentarily, grunting angrily as a lucky slash caught him across the right eye. His opponent leapt forward, thrusting for the chest. Joseph's cutlass intercepted the blow, lifting it clear. Joseph let the man's momentum carry him forward and hacked him across the neck as he went past. They both whipped round to face the last survivor.

Realising that he was alone the corsair threw down his weapon and ran for the door. Joseph threw back his arm and hurled the cutlass with all his strength. The weapon's heavy hilt struck the fleeing man at the base of the skull, sending him crashing to the deck where he lay unmoving. The elf ran over, pulled a knife from the fallen man's belt and, seizing a handful of dark hair, pulled the blade across the man's throat. He let go his hold and the head fell to the floor, a pool of blood spreading out from under it.

A faint groaning sounded in the elf's ears and he turned in time to see Druo haul the last semi-conscious pirate from the deck. He watched with a mixture of curiosity and disgust as the vampire mimicked his own action, pulling back the head and sinking a pair of long fangs into the neck, a soft sigh of satisfaction escaping the pale lips as he drank deeply.

Druo drank deeply but quickly, dropping the body to the deck as the sound of feet clattering overhead caught their attention.

"Well, looks like the cats out of the bag." Joseph did not bother with recriminations, there was simply no time.

"Then we must move fast elf. Come, to the forward hatch and quickly!"

A whimper of fear from beneath one of the tables caught their attention. Joseph knelt down and made out the figure of a woman lying on her side with her back pressed against the wall. A long mane of black hair fell down over her shoulders, contrasting sharply with her white nightgown. From beneath the wild tangle a pair of frightened eyes looked back at him. Even in her unkempt state there was no mistaking the young woman.

The vampire had also identified the previously overlooked woman and moved forward, lips parted in a vicious leer.

"Leave her!" Joseph was across the deck in an instant, one hand laid against the vampire's bony shoulder, "do not forget what was agreed, get to the hatch now, I will be right with you." For a moment the vampire held his gaze, a mixture of amusement, contempt and even anger playing across those cold eyes. Then without a word it turned and disappeared through the doorway.

Joseph watched him go, before turning to the table. Gripping the rim he hauled it up, ignoring the clatter caused by wooden bowls sliding onto the deck, and secured the lump of wood in place. Satisfied he knelt beside the young woman and took her by the arms.

At first she shrank from his touch, but his steady gaze held hers and he managed to coax her to her feet and guided her roughly through the doorway. There was no time for finesse. Drawing a knife Joseph cut her bonds and turned to the door as she pulled the gag clear of her mouth. He had just booted the door closed behind him when Louisa threw her arms around him. Joseph shifted uncomfortably, before slowly putting his arms around her, one eye fixed firmly on Druo's dark form at the foot of the ladder.

Louisa was shaking badly, "they…they…"

"I know," he did not but that would have to wait, "they cannot hurt you anymore." This did not seem to be of much comfort to her.

"You don't understand…" Joseph cut her off before she could continue.

"Listen carefully, there is going to be a fight, a lot of men may be about to die. That _thing _is on our side. Now do not ask me anymore, there is no time to explain. When the fighting starts you must keep out of sight and do exactly what I say. Do so and we may both come through this alive, do you understand?"

She nodded, still shaking in his arms.

He slipped a dagger into her hand, "then get ready."

A-A-A

TBC.


	28. Fire and Steel

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story (more's the pity).

OOC: Hello again everyone, sorry about the late return but I said I's get there in the end. As always all reviews will be much appreciated.

A-A-A

On board the corsair galley Saul Moran, the officer of the watch, rubbed his eyes wearily and wondered, not for the first time, how he had drawn the short straw for tonight's watch. With a hold full of plunder and their destination now less than a day's sail away he would much rather have been below decks drinking with the others than having to keep what he considered an unnecessary watch on this cold night. They were at anchor in a sheltered harbour and there were no settlements near this place for many miles.

_What the hell are we supposed to watch for, a mob of angry shepherds? _

"The fogs getting bad sir."

"I can see that," Sauk snapped irritably, his angry tone discouraging further comment, despite the man's observation being correct. Whilst fog was not uncommon at this time of the year there was something strange about the speed at which this one had fallen. It had been less than an hour since the lookout in the crow's nest had first reported it and already it was starting to spill onto the main deck. Give it another twenty minutes and the decks would be awash with it. Saul wasn't terribly worried; fog was no threat to an anchored vessel after all. But if it had not cleared by morning they would have to delay their return to port.

_The Mate's not gonna like this, that's for sure_.

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud scream that pierced the night air, the sound bouncing eerily around the confined walls of the cove.

"What the hell was that?"

"I don't know sir, but I think it came from the _Vulture_."

"What?" Saul snatched a spy glass and trained it on the merchant vessel, but in the dim light and with the fog growing higher and thicker it was impossible to make out anything.

"Should I fetch the Mate sir? He did say to call him if something happened."

"No, not yet I think. Hail the _Vulture._ They should still be able to hear us, even if they can't see us."

A-A-A

Heider jerked round with a start when the first scream pierced the night air. Although muffled by the confines of the ship's hull it was impossible to miss. This was abruptly followed by shouting and more screams, all abruptly drowned out by a shriek that brought every man on deck up short.

"What in Sigmar's name was that?"

"I don't know sir," Vorcha was suddenly beside him, face concealed beneath his mask, "but whatever it was it came from below, and it didn't sound human".

Both men paused as a splintering crash came from the hold, feeling the slight impact vibrate through the deck beneath them. More screams followed, lasting only a few seconds before fading to silence.

"Vorcha, you stay up here with ten men, the rest of you men follow me!"

As Heider descended into the hold with the bulk of the marines and corsair crew at his heels Vorcha set to working posting four of his men on the quarterdeck and another four around the hatch. The two whom he judged to be least the worse for wear were sent up into the rigging of the mainmast, each with a bow and arrows over his shoulder.

"All right men keep your eyes peeled. If anything's going on down there the commander will find it. All we have to do is make sure it doesn't get past them. You two up there, keep your bows trained on the hatch but make sure you don't shoot one of ours. Is that understood?"

"Understood sir," the men replied.

A-A-A

Joseph wedged another chair against the door, grunting with satisfaction when he heard raised voices from the other side. "Well they've taken the bait. We'd better move."

Druo reached up and, with great care, began to push up the hatch cover.

"Do you really think you can climb around without being seen," Joseph's tone was sceptical.

"You just do your part elf and I'll do mine."

A-A-A

Heider put his shoulder to the door that led to the main deck beyond, cursing as the stout timber refused to budge. "This is useless. There's an axe in the second cabin on the right," he gestured towards the stern, "get this thing open."

"Aye aye sir."

As the men hurried to do their leader's bidding Heider moved to the hatchway. "You five, follow me now!" Without waiting for a response he clambered down the ladder, grabbing a lantern from its hook. His first move was to sweep the stern section and when this yielded nothing the marines headed towards the bow. It did not take them long to discover the bodies of their comrades hidden behind the crates in the hold. The three men were clearly dead, blood staining both their clothes and deck boards underneath them. Heider cursed angrily. Around him .the men were silent, none giving voice to their thoughts but it was easy to guess what was going through their heads right now, for the same ones were going through his own.

Why had the fools entered the hold? His orders had been clear. If it should become apparent that the elf was still on board, and in the event of him being found, the sentries had been ordered to keep him contained until help could arrive, and nothing more. He dismissed the questions and put them aside for later. This was no time for useless recriminations, right now their priority was to find the new threat and eliminate it.

"If the elf did this then we'll find him, he cannot hope to stand against all of us. Search the hold."

The brief search yielded nothing, as Heider had expected it would. Wherever the elf had been hiding it was clear that he was no longer down here. He must now be on the upper deck and with any luck they would have him trapped.

"What about this sir?"

Heider glanced up, his eyes settling on a marine who was examining one of the corpses. He moved forward, seeing now what had caught the man's attention. In the dim light it was just possible to discern the two small puncture marks on the neck. He squinted hard, trying to gauge what weapon could have done this. None came to mind.

"What did that sir?"

"I don't know…"

Further discussion was interrupted as a turbaned figure appeared at the entrance to the hold.

"Well?" Heider's tone was impatient.

"We've got through the door and it's a right bloodbath in there."

"And?"

"We haven't found anyone yet."

"Then get back up there. Everyone move!"

A-A-A

Joseph raised his head cautiously, looking out along the decks. From this position, crouched behind a stack of ropes and canvas in the corner of the forecastle, his keen gaze could make out the small group clustered around the quarterdeck, recognising Vorcha's masked visage amongst them. Very slowly, mindful that even in this light the movement might be detected, he drew and notched an arrow. Should he target this man first? His gaze travelled upwards to the two men sitting in the topmast, for the first time noticing the bows in their hands. Should he despatch the leader and sow momentary confusion amongst the group? Or take out those with the best vantage point who could snipe at an attacker on deck with relative impunity? Speed would be essential here and they could risk no delays, but if the element of surprise was lost too early or the speed of their attack was to falter then all that they had achieved so far would be in vain.

The sentries then.

"I don't know why you didn't stay below decks?" his voice was barely a whisper. Sound would travel far on such a cold night.

At his back Louisa lay huddled under a sheet of canvas, trying to be as still and quiet as possible, "the safest place on this ship is near you."

"Keep your head down." Slowly, methodically, the elf pulled the string back, lining the point up on the figures in the rigging. _He must be there by now_.

From the stern there came a savage shriek.

Joseph loosed his arrow.

A-A-A

The men below decks gazed in disbelief at the carnage before them, the bloodied corpses of their comrades scattered about a deck that was now running red with blood. Heider was the first to overcome his shock and he moved cautiously into the room with sword drawn. His eyes scanned the shadows but there was no movement. He looked around at the bodies, noting also the shattered table that had apparently been flung straight across the room.

He knelt down beside one of the bodies, rolling it over to see the lines of red where the throat had been slashed open, slashed open by what appeared to be a three-pronged weapon. The other bodies bore similar wounds, triple lines marking where the weapon had torn them open. How had the elf managed to kill so many so quickly and with such savagery? But he knew in his heart that no one man could have one this.

Two marines moved past him and tried to open the door at the far end. It did not budge.

"Doors jammed sir."

"Then smash it down, there's nowhere for him to…" Heider stopped, eyes widening as he suddenly realised their mistake. In the mad dash to get below decks everyone had forgotten the hatch that led up to the forecastle-a hatch that had never been used on the voyage; a hatch that he himself had only noticed by chance; a hatch that would now provide an unguarded route to the decks above.

_Shit!_

"You four get up topside now! Tell Vorcha to secure the hatch on the forecastle, the rest of us will sweep through and meet you on the other side."

A-A-A

The dull thud of a falling body hitting the deck drew every gaze towards the bow.

The sentry lay sprawled below the mast, a feathered shaft jutting from his neck. Above him his friend stared down in mute shock. Before anyone could react another arrow whistled through the air and the second man fell like a stone to the deck.

Joseph stood up now, making sure they could see him. The marines stared at him, momentarily dumbfounded by the brazenness of the attack. Those few seconds were all he needed to notch a third arrow and drop another man, the arrow piercing the throat above his leather jack collar.

Vorcha drew his sword and started forward, "don't just stand there you fools, shields up and advance! Sound the alarm!"

No sooner had they started to advance than the air was torn apart by a piercing shriek. The man nearest the stern looked round just in time to see a dark shadowy form descending upon him. A clawed hand flashed downwards and darkness blocked out his world forever.

Vorcha spun round. His sword swept round in a low cutting arc. Druo batted it aside, lifted the marine with both hands and threw him across the deck. Vorcha struck the mainmast, bouncing off the timber to land in a crumpled heap. He did not move again.

The remaining crew had no chance. Caught between the charging vampire and the elf's bow they had nowhere to run and no time to react. Within seconds they all lay dead or dying on the deck.

"Quickly elf, whilst we still have them hemmed in!"

A-A-A

Heider drew his sword when the first shrieks came from above deck, realising that something was wrong.

"Get up top now!"

The men scrambled to obey him, those who had been searching the mess deck scrabbling to join the men in the corridor who were blundering into each other and cursing angrily as they attempted to ascend the ladder. Finally one marine got a foothold and began to haul himself up. A corsair began to follow him. The rest crowded around the ladder, waiting for their chance to ascend the rungs.

There was a loud thud, followed by the sound of angry cursing as a body fell down the hatchway, knocking those at the foot of the ladder backwards. A dark shape came after it, leaping down into their midst with a bestial roar. It ploughed into the packed mass of men, knocking several of them sprawling. Its arms rose and fell, sending blood spraying across the walls. The attack ended as soon as it began, the figure shouldering past the stunned marines to disappear into the corridor of the stern cabins.

As Heider sprang forward he saw a third shape materialise from the pale light streaming though the hatchway. Moonlight gleamed on silver hair and Heider gave a snarl of anger as he recognised the quarry that had until now eluded him.

"Kill him!"

Joseph leapt over two sprawled figures, rolled as he hit the deck, and came to rest against the closed door. But instead of trying to open it, as would have been expected, he raised his left hand and spoke a single word.

"Accendo!"

For an instant the band around his forearm glowed faintly and from it there came a beam of power that shot forth to engulf the corridor. A second later came the smell of burning. A second more and the corridor was engulfed by screams of pain. Joseph rose to his feet, surveying the results with satisfaction.

The four men who had been at the front of the group were clearly dead, having caught the full brunt of the blast. Behind them their comrades lay in tightly packed pile. Their clothing was blackened, the exposed flesh of their faces and forearms badly blistered. Cries of pain issued from blistered lips as men tried to crawl away. In their agony they were seemingly heedless of one another and soon blood was flowing where burnt skin brushed against clothing and was promptly torn away. The stench of burnt flesh was overpowering.

He heard the creak of the latch as Druo opened the door and stepped out into the corridor behind him.

"Nice work elf, I must say I am impressed. Although, I did wonder how you would pull this off without setting us all alight."

Joseph allowed himself a thin smile, "there was no danger, and I know how to control this thing." But he noted the scorch-marks on the walls with concern. That had been a near thing, any longer and the planks might well have been set alight. He would have to be more careful the next time he used the vambrace's enchantment.

His musings were interrupted as two corpses were abruptly shoved aside and Heider rose up like a zombie from the grave. The man's hair and clothes had been singed by the flames but he was otherwise unharmed, having presumably been shielded from the full blast by those in front of him. His cold eyes locked onto Joseph's, blazing with a mixture of pain and anger and his lips drew back in a snarl, exposing the man's needle-like teeth.

Two more figures clambered up beside him, voices grunting with the pain of their burns as they rose

Druo stepped up beside Joseph, fangs bared in an evil grin, "it would seem that the fun is not over yet!"

Both marines took one look at their opponents, turned tail and bolted for the mess deck. Heider alone stood his ground, sword held firm.

Joseph raised his cutlass, "he's mine vampire. You see to the others."

"As you wish elf," the vampire darted forward, ducked Heider's sword swing and darted after the two marines.

A-A-A

The escaping marines just made it to the far door when the vampire struck. A clawed hand lifted one up and slammed him against the woodwork. The second man was still fumbling uselessly with the handle when Druo grabbed him, yanked the man's head back and sank his fangs into the jugular with a sigh of satisfaction, paying only vague attention to the shrieking behind him.

A-A-A

For a moment both combatants stood silent, each assessing the other. Joseph was the first to move, darting forward with two swift strikes that were easily deflected. Heider responded in kind with the same result and both fell back. A brief pause followed.

"A great pity elf, a shame you didn't take up my offer."

"Yes, it would have been…interesting."

No more words were spoken after that, there was nothing more to say.

This time Heider moved first, his longsword meeting the elf's cutlass with such force that the shock almost jerked it out of the elf's hands. As the two blades met Heider's sword suddenly began to glow a deep reddish hue and Joseph recoiled as the corridor was suddenly filled with horrifying screams that stung his ears. He had heard such sounds before, in the midst of battle when men were hacked down in the tight press of combat or in dungeons where prisoner's screamed as the torturer practised his trade. It was a sound that would evoke terror into anyone's heart. Even Joseph was momentarily stunned by the sudden outburst.

Heider took advantage of his hesitation, grabbed the blade of his longsword and jerked the hilt upwards to catch the elf a bruising blow on the side of the head. As Joseph staggered the marine put his shoulder to the elf's chest and slammed him backwards. Joseph tripped as he stumbled, somehow rolling to his knees in time to deflect the incoming sword thrust. Too late he saw the dagger, jerked aside in an effort to avoid it and gasped in pain as the blade buried itself in his sword arm.

With a superhuman effort the elf pushed his opponent back and clambered to his feet, switching sword hands and drawing his own dagger.

A-A-A

"She's not answering sir."

Saul cursed angrily. _So much for a quiet night_.

"Inform the commodore, and get two of the boats ready. We'd better go and check her out!"

"But sir the commodore did not want to be distur…"

Saul rounded on the man angrily, "do as I say you worthless bilge rat!"

The unfortunate crewman scurried away from his wrath.

A-A-A

The duel was becoming more ferocious as both opponents sought to bring an end to it. Joseph knew that their battle may have been heard on board the galley and that reinforcements might arrive at any moment. He had to end this now and pressed his attack.

Heider backed away, sweat streaming down his brow. He knew now that he was fighting a better swordsman than himself. The elf's blades were like a serpent's tongues, his twin-sword fighting strikes dangerously quick. The wound in the elf's arm had done nothing to affect his swordplay and he seemed completely unfazed by the terrifying screams emanating from the marine's sword. Knowing that if he did not force an end soon Joseph would wear him down Heider lunged forwards and struck at the elf's wounded arm. If he could apply enough pressure to the limb it might buckle long enough to give him an opening.

Joseph grunted with the effort. In a land-based duel he would have been able to duck and dodge around an opponent. Here, in the cramped confines of the passageway, there was no room for manoeuvre. Only brute strength and a swift thrust would decide this combat. Locking hilts with his opponent again he exerted a burst of strength and pushed his opponent backwards, leaping after him to unleash a volley of blows that forced Heider onto the defensive.

The man parried as best he could but the elf was faster and it was a struggle to even block the incoming blows.

Suddenly, for an instant, the fury of the attack lessened. Joseph's defences seemed to drop. Heider's sword struck for the heart.

Joseph sidestepped, sword arm raised, feeling the blade miss him by millimetres. His arm snapped down, capturing the blade against his body. He twisted left, pulling the sword from the marine's grasp.

Taken by surprise Heider stepped backwards. Joseph's foot struck him in the stomach and sent him against the wall. Joseph leapt at him, reversed his grip on the sword and drove it through man's stomach. Heider gaped at him in disbelief, sinking to his knees.

For a moment they both stared at one another soundlessly.

"Now finish it elf," blood was trickling from the marine's mouth.

Joseph pulled the blade clear, spun on his heel and slashed open the man's throat. Heider fell to the floor as the life left him.

For a moment Joseph stared at him, then knelt down and closed the man's eyes.

Groans from the wounded marine's drew his attention and he retrieved his dagger. The butcher's bill was yet to be paid.

A-A-A

TBC.


	29. Dinner is Ended

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

OOC: Here's the next update. Getting there slowly. All reviews appreciated, I am glad to see that some people are still reading this in spite of my infrequent updates.

A-A-A

The dinner taking place in the commodore's cabin could not be described as warm and friendly but everyone was at least being civil to one another. Conversation was forced but polite and no one could deny that at any other gathering Diego Muktara would have made a good host. From the beginning he had been talkative and energetic, always encouraging everyone to take part in the conversation.

The three women reacted according to their differing temperaments. Julia Ormorond, the oldest and most self-assured of the three had also proved to be the most talkative and was quick to engage the First Mate in a discussion on matters of sailing and ship construction. Muktara was both surprised and not a little delighted to find a woman who shared his interest in such nautical matters and the two were soon deep in discussion.

Jane, the most nervous and the least worldly of the three, listened politely but most of it went over her head and she had said little throughout the meal.

Ellaine for her part did her best to pay attention but found herself unable to concentrate, partly due to her continuing anxiety over what she knew was to befall her the next day, but also because her eye was now badly swollen and throbbing painfully. Julia had thoughtfully tied a damp bandage over the eye to allow it to rest and she was feeling a little self-conscious attending dinner with a strip of cloth covering part of her face.

Julia had at least seen the funny side of things, remarking that "a mask would certainly have been preferable."

Commodore Wolfe had, in contrast to Muktara, been aloof and removed through much of the conversation and when he did speak it was simply to make a statement or to ask a question in a tone that did not encourage further discussion. He had dressed all in black with a black iron skull-cap and Ellaine was finding herself liking his company less and less as the evening wore on.

She came out of her musings in time to catch the gist of a question that Julia was putting to the first mate.

"Personally sir, I was given to believe that there are small vessels used by the men from the northern lands that are said to be the finest vessels ever designed.

"Ah I see you have heard of the Norse long ships my dear lady. I cannot deny that they are fine craft, seaworthy enough to sail across the oceans to Lustria and the dark lands north of that place if I have heard right, which is more than this vessel can do. And of course they can sail up most rivers which makes them ideal coastal raiders."

"Do you mean that this ship cannot be used for such a role?"

"Oh we can move her overland if need be. It is not easy but with enough logs and muscle she can be moved over most coastal plains. However she was built for speed, not endurance. Fortunately the Tilean Sea and the Southern Sea are both relatively gentle, and if we stick close to the coast then we can anchor at any bay when required. Regrettably the weather encountered on other seas-that is the Great Western Ocean, the Middle Sea and the Sea of Claws-is simply too 'volatile' for this ship to manage, hence our need for larger ships such as galleons when attempting such expeditions." *

This drew Ellaine's interest, "and is that the fate that you intend for the _Vulture_ when we reach Sartossa Mr Muktara?"

Wolfe cut in before his First Mate could answer her, "that is not your concern. Miss Brionne. And you Mr Muktara will kindly refrain from discussing the capabilities of this vessel with our guests."

"As you wish sir," Muktara knew better than to answer back and decided to change the subject, "Miss Grenfell, from what I hear you have had a rather eventful voyage thus far. Your chaperones would appear to have been less vigilant than they should have been given the circumstances."

Ellaine regarded him carefully, "I have no chaperone Mr Muktara." _As you are well aware!_

"A young woman all alone," Muktara raised his eyebrows, "that must have turned quite a few heads amongst the crew, indeed I have been informed you did attract some attention from other quarters along the way."

"That was dealt with."

"So I hear, it seems that you have quite a talent for teaching men how to behave. Perhaps, when we enter harbour, you might favour some of our men with your company, they could do with being educated in how to behave in society."

Ellaine forced a polite smile, making light of the ill-considered remark, "I am sure that will be most enjoyable Mr Muktara. You must show me some of the attractions of Sartossa when we arrive in port."

"It would be my pleasure my lady, indeed there are some sights that I think you would truly appreciate. There's the _Helena_, now she's an ancient war galley over a century old. Captured her from the Sultan of Araby she was as kept in perfect condition. The gilt on her stern and the finesse of her hull-oh but she's a work of art as well as a warship-well worth a visit in my opinion. And then there are the statues of some of our more famous, or should that be infamous captain's hahaha, and after that…"

But Muktara's description of the port's facilities was cut short by the sound of approaching footsteps, followed only seconds later by a loud hammering on the door.

"Enter," Wolfe's tone was low but his voice was heard by all.

The door opened to reveal a short, stocky corsair. The man was panting slightly from his run.

"Apologies for disturbing you sir, but the watch thought you would want to know that we've lost contact with the _Vulture_."

"What do you mean lost contact?" The man had everyone's attention now.

"About ten minutes ago we heard strange noises coming from her, sounded like shouts or screams. Then there was this terrible sound, some kind of high pitched scream that seemed to shake the air around us. It sobered me up good and proper sir. And now we cannot contact her. We've hailed her several times and signalled her twice. No one answers."

"I see," Wolfe interlocked the fingers of both hand, elbows resting on the table, and rested his head against them, mouth hidden behind the interlocked fingers. It was a technique that he knew many of his men found unnerving and it gave him a sense of satisfaction to be able to unsettle them so easily. "Have you prepared the boats?"

"Boats sir?" the corsair began to feel nervous.

"Yes sir, I assume you have at least prepared a party to row over and investigate the disturbance."

"Um…we, that is to say…"

"Spit it out."

"No sir, we thought you should be informed first."

"I see, and have you at least readied the bolt thrower in case of trouble?"

"No sir."

"Damn it, must I do everything myself!" Wolfe was on his feet instantly, "Mr Muktara you will get yourself up on deck at once, you women will stay here until further notice, and you," here he gestured at the newly arrived corsair, "are to stand guard outside this door. If anyone comes or goes without my permission I will know about it, is that clear!"

The corsair swallowed nervously, "yes sir."

A-A-A

"Report!" all eyes turned as Wolfe strode onto the deck with Muktara close behind.

Saul stood to attention nervously, "we've lost contact with the _Vulture_ sir."

"I have been made aware of that you fool, what exactly have you done about it?"

"Well…that is we…" Saul groped for words, in truth he had been hoping that the captain would take charge. It only now occurred to him that his failure to act might not be well received.

Wolfe emitted an irritated sigh, "get two boats slung out, two raiding parties fully armed for combat. Mr Muktara you have command in my absence. Make haste!"

It would normally have taken less than two minutes to get both boats loaded and launched, but with the crew the worse for drink things went more slowly. Nevertheless under Wolfe's steely gaze both vessels were underway in five minutes.

As the men rowed towards the ghostly vessel Wolfe took a grip on the silver talisman around his neck with one hand, gripping his war hammer tightly with the other.

A-A-A

The manacle lock clicked open, its sound unnaturally loud in the confined space.

"I've got it sir, " Erard grinned in triumph and almost dropped the lock-pick.

"Well done lad," Grunwald eased the manacles away from his wrists, "now remember the plan lads, once we get loose we've got to move fast and we don't stop for anything. Surprise will be with us but it will not last long and if we lose momentum then we're done for."

"Don't worry sir, you can count on me."

"You're just fooling yourselves," Ahmed's tone was dull and without hope, "even if we do manage to get loose the rest of the crew will be down on our heads in an instant. We don't have a chance."

"In that case mate we will go down fighting, together. Or would you prefer to go on living as a slave in this hell-hole?"

Ahmed gave a sigh of resignation, "Just give me a weapon. I'll fight by your side. As will the rest of us, isn't that right mates." This remark was addressed to the men sitting in front of and behind them and whilst some made no response others gave faint nods of agreement. Grunwald was not surprised; he knew that all of those present would fall in behind them once events were set in motion. Some slaves would be too weak to move, others were badly broken in sprit if not in body, but desperation can give a man surprising strength. Many would gladly choose death as an escape from the hell they had been forced to live through these past few months.

Still, before anything could happen he had to get them loose.

The boatswain strained his ears, listening for the sound of any footsteps that would signal the approach of the overseer.

"That yellow bastard should be making his rounds any time now lads, and with any luck he'll be the worse for wear after all that boozing. Any minute…" he paused at the sound of approaching steps. Sure enough the stillness was broken when a shadow appeared in the doorway, passing though the entrance to cast itself over the hunched figures, many of whom shrank from it in fear. The shadow's owner came after it, a bottle in one hand and the long knotted shape of a cat-o-nine tails in the other.

The overseer laughed heartily as his gaze roamed over the slaves. His fingers uncurled, allowing the knotted strands to fall free. Men shivered, knowing what was to come.

"Hello there my little friends, did you miss me?" the man was clearly drunk but this did nothing to dilute the malevolence in his eyes, "can't have that now can we? I mean come tomorrow we will be in port, I will be going out to enjoy the town and you lot, well you will all have to make yourselves useful elsewhere. It could be quite a while before I see you all again. Pity, you've all been such good company on this voyage. I shall truly be sorry to see you go. But what must be must be. Still, we do have tonight, might as well give you a proper send off. Now let's see, who has been especially good here? Ah yes…"

The cat cracked out, a Brettonian man screamed in pain, arms raised high to shield himself. The overseer laughed and struck the man next to him, drawing blood from his back. "Oh how I shall truly miss this."

Grunwald tensed as the man made his way down the galley, striking men at random. All who were struck screamed out. Some no longer cared about the pain, but knew that to make no sound would only enrage their tormentor further. Eventually he drew level with the boatswain's group.

"Not a sound!" Grunwald hissed. A quick look around confirmed that no guards were about, they must be all above decks enjoying themselves.

The cat flicked out, Erard screamed.

It struck again, Ahmed gave an agonised grunt.

It struck a third time. Suddenly Grunwald twisted in the seat, his manacles falling free. His fingers closed around the lengths of rope and gave them a vicious tug.

Taken completely by surprise the overseer lost his balance and toppled forwards. Before he could utter a sound Grunwald seized him by the neck and forced him down against the bench. The overseer beat at him desperately as he felt the boatswain's hands upon his neck, felt the man's thick thumbs dig into his Adam's apple.

Grunwald paid no attention to the blows, desperation and anger blocking out all else. How long he held the overseer there he did not know, but he did not release his grip until the other lay still.

"Quickly, get the others free before anyone else comes."

Freeing the slaves was a noisier business than he would have liked. Despite his frequent calls for silence the slaves seemed to go wild upon scenting the prospect of freedom and the deck soon rang with the clamour of cries for freedom.

Suddenly the doorway to the bow opened and two corsairs strode in.

Grunwald felt his heart stop. Both were the worse for drink but not so much that they couldn't recognise this new threat.

The lead man opened his mouth, his fellow fumbled for a scimitar.

A shadow materialised from the hatchway that led to the hold. There was a blur of movement and both corsairs went down with a pair of muffled thumps.

Richard Armittage lowered the makeshift club; a large mallet used by the ship's coopers to make barrels, and managed a weak grin. "I see you've started the party without us bosun. And here I was thinking I was going to play the knight in shining armour."

"No time for wisecracks Mr Armittage, do you have any keys?"

"Aye sir, everyone down in the hold is free and it wasn't too…"

Grunwald cut him off, "no time for explanations, just get this lot loose fast before they give us away."

Indeed, by now the noise from the prisoners had become dangerously loud and even as he strained his ears to listen above the clamour Grunwald was sure he could hear the pounding of feet overhead. Realising their danger the boatswain pushed his way to the doorway and laid his hand on the latch. "Right lads, we rush them now. Don't stop for anything."

A-A-A

TBC.

OOC: * -For anyone who wants geographical descriptions:

-Sea of Claws: the sea between Norsica and the Empire.

-Middle Sea: the seas roughly north of the Empire.

-Great Western Ocean: the ocean to the west of the Old World.

-Southern Sea: located South of Estalia and the Border Kingdoms, north of Araby.

-Tilean Sea: located north of the Southern Sea between Tilea and Estalia. Miragliano is

located on the northern edge of the Tilean Sea.

A-A-A


	30. The Duels

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer and am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

OOC: And now, finally, we come to the main fight scene. Bet you all wondered if I would ever get there. Well I hope it doesn't disappoint, and as always please read and review.

I originally intended this chapter to be longer but on reflection I decided that it would serve better if split into two parts.

A-A-A

Diego Muktara stood on the _Harbinger's_ quarterdeck gazing at the _Vulture's _dark silhouette. The fog had swallowed the two up almost as soon as they had pulled away from the _Harbinger's _side but he could still make out the splash of their oars as they pulled further towards their objective. Judging from the sounds they must be nearly there.

Personally he felt that the commodore had overreacted. The strange noises and the failure of the marines to answer their hails was certainly a cause for concern, but would it not have been better to send one boat to investigate the matter. A single boat of well-armed men would have been a formidable force in its own right and if there was something going on that might represent a threat to the ship then would it not have been better to keep the bulk of the crew on board to defend the galley?

Still orders were orders.

Not that he was taking matters lightly by any means. As soon as Wolfe had left he had ordered every crewman on deck to arm himself, to cease all drinking and to beat to quarters. Around him the crew were slowly reporting to their stations, grumbling angrily at the order to stop their drinking. Two men were currently climbing up to the crow's nest and rest were moving about on deck. He made a brief gesture that directed a party of five to proceed below decks to rouse the slaves. If something were to occur then they would be ready for it. He heard the creak of metal as the bolt thrower was uncovered and prepared for action, noting with some displeasure that it was taking longer than normal. Perhaps allowing the men a free nights drinking had not been such a good idea…

Muktara's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. He turned and came face-to-face with James Atcher.

"Do you want something?"

"Yes Mr Muktara, I would like to talk to you about that Bretonnian woman."

Diego held up a hand, "no Mr Atcher, I do not understand this obsession you seem to have with her but kindly put it out of you mind. The commodore gave you very clear orders; his absence does not countermand them."

Atcher grimaced but kept his voice level, "that woman has humiliated and assaulted me on two occasions and I cannot let that pass. I know what the commodore said and I would not go against his orders normally but with her it is different. I know you hope to get a good ransom out of her but…"

"Enough, I will not speak any more on that matter. We have a guard on the cabin and you may not see her. If you are so eager then I suggest you wait until we reach port. She and her maid are to be turned over to slavers once the ransom is paid. Perhaps then you will get the revenge you so greatly covet."

"You mean to say they will be sold as slaves?"

"That is correct."

A cruel grin slowly spread itself across the nobleman's features, "thank you for telling me that."

Muktara scowled, but said nothing.

A-A-A

The boats reached the tall side of the _Vulture_ in under a minute. When the launch's coxswain hailed her and received no reply Wolfe gave the order to board. Grappling hooks were thrown and the men hauled themselves up, their training overcoming the effects of drink.

Wolfe was the first on aboard, the rest clambering up behind him. His eyes swept the deck from stem to stern but could see no one. "Spread out and search!"

A-A-A

At the head of the five corsairs Saul stumbled down the corridor, groping his way in the in the dim light. As his hand reached for the handle on the door that would lead them to the oar deck he found himself wondering where the head overseer had gone, surely the man would have been heading below decks by now.

The door flew open, catching him full in the face. Grunwald burst through the entrance, shouldered Saul to one side and threw himself at the other four men. The first one went down with a knife in his throat. The boatswain leapt forward, elbowing the next man in the face. The corsair fell backwards, hands clutching at his shattered nose. Grunwald reached for the man's belt and pulled out a knife. Even as the fourth corsair, having overcome his shock, struggled to draw a weapon Grunwald rammed the blade upwards into the man's ribs, tore it clear and slashed him across the throat for good measure.

Saul scrambled to his feet, reached for his sword, stepped forward and went flying as two slaves tackled him from behind. The men swarmed over their former captor, punching and biting for all they were worth. Saul screamed in pain and struggled desperately to get free. His efforts were futile. Empowered by his agony the slaves increased their attack and Saul soon fell silent.

Richard Armittage charged past the bloody struggle, clubbing the third corsair over the head with his mallet. The man's skull buckled under the impact and he fell lifeless to the deck.

The last man fell back, sword held before him. As more slaves began to pile into the corridor he turned to run, screaming as he went, "Revolt! The prisoners are loose. Get down here!"

He never made it to the end of the corridor. The boatswain's knife struck him in the back and he fell to the deck. Grunwald snatched up the dead man's cutlass and ran onwards, the slaves on his heels.

A-A-A

"Revolt!" a scream erupted from the hatchway, "The prisoners are loose. Get down here!"

_What the…!_

Muktara spun on his heel, hand reaching for his sword.

"Check the hatches, now!"

The words were barely out of his mouth when the first slave burst out of the hatchway. Pale, skinny and clothed in rags, the man leapt at the nearest corsair and with a suicidal scream wrapped his arms and legs around the turbaned figure's frame and they crashed against the quarterdeck steps. The pirates were still staring in shock as two more slaves appeared and flung themselves into the fray. One of them ran for Muktara and died as the first Mate's cutlass slashed him across the neck.

Jumping over the fallen corpse Diego ran for the hatchway. "Don't just stand there you fools, fight them!"

Grunwald appeared at the hatchway, saw the First Mate and made for him. Muktara lifted his sword and advanced to accept the challenge.

A-A-A

Wolfe surveyed the scene of carnage arrayed before him, the sprawled corpses, the smashed table and the great pool of blood that had now gathered on the deck. It did not move him, he had seen such scenes before on distant battlefields, but he was worried nonetheless. What had done this? How could it have come aboard without anyone noticing? And where was it now? The signs seemed to indicate that the bulk of the fighting had taken place down here. In which case how had they gotten past the sentries on deck? The men had found traces of blood on deck but no signs of heavy fighting, no signs of an attempt to repel boarders. It was all very strange.

He knelt down by the nearest corpse to take a closer look at its wounds, noting the strange three-slash pattern to them. Almost like….claw marks. On impulse he leaned across and tilted its head towards him. It was a grisly sight; the man's face had been all but ripped off leaving the cheek bones completely exposed. The blood had congealed over the face and neck, going on to saturate the shirt and tunic. He squinted. Amidst the ruined flesh it was still possible to make out two deep puncture wounds in the right hand side of the neck.

Wolfe drew a sharp breath as the meaning of this find hit him. This threat was far greater than previously thought-he had to act now and quickly. His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of shouting from the corridor, followed by the sound of running feet. Irritably he barked out a question.

"What in the name of Morr is going on out there?"

One of the corsairs left on deck appeared at the doorway, "sir, we've just heard shouting from the _Harbinger_, sounds like there's a fight breaking out on board her, and a big one at that. There's screaming, sword clashing and everything.

_Ah…more good news, _"anything else to report?"

"Yes sir, the jolly boat for this ship is missing an we cannae figure out where it's gone."

"Get to the boats now!"

"But what about this ship sir?"

"She must wait. Do not delay!"

A-A-A

The fighting now raging on board the galley hung in the balance. The escaped prisoners had achieved the element of surprise; they had desperation on their side and were driven by a deep hatred of the corsairs who had forced them into live a life of hell. Unarmed as many of them were, still they threw themselves upon their captors biting, punching and kicking for all they were worth. The corsairs however were in better condition and better armed. Muktara's order to arm themselves meant that once the initial surprise had worn off they were able to fight back effectively and begin hacking down prisoners in short order. However the prisoners also had the advantage of numbers and as more and more of them charged up from the two hatchways they managed to resist their captor's efforts to push them back.

Richard Armittage ducked the swing of a cutlass and struck back with his mallet, hitting the pirate's wrist with such force that he dropped his weapon. Armittage's second blow struck the man's left temple and sent him crashing to the deck. Armittage scooped up the downed man's scimitar, only now recognising the curved blade that Pyromancer had given him back in Magritta. Grunting with satisfaction he flung himself into the fray, locking swords with another corsair and forcing him back up against the port railings.

Up on the quarterdeck Atcher fought at the top of the stairway, an elegant rapier in one hand, a long-bladed dagger in the other. Knocking aside a boarding pike he lunged and buried the rapiers point in his opponent's throat. Pulling it clear the nobleman slashed another slave across the face with his knife and as the man fell backward he thrust the rapier into his left eye, tearing the white ball from the socket as he disengaged the blade. Laughing with glee he flicked away the grisly trophy and took another step down to meet the next slave.

Ahmed leapt clear of the hatchway and threw himself at the nearest corsair. A solid punch to gut momentarily winded the man and Ahmed hurled him aside. Young Erard sprang upon the downed corsair, slashing the man's throat with a single swipe of his knife.

Grunwald blocked Muktara's slash and lashed out with his knife. Muktara evaded the strike, twisting his sword for a counter-thrust that forced the boatswain to step backwards, the blade missing his chest by an inch. The corsair officer seized the initiative and lunged forward with a series of thrusts and slashes directed to the chest. Grunwald fell back, blocking as he went. Suddenly Muktara's cutlass slipped past his defences and tore a thin gash across the boatswain's left breast. Scenting blood the corsair lunged again. Grunwald pivoted to avoid him, locked hilts and slashed his knife across his opponent's face, drawing blood as it opened up the left cheek. Muktara screamed with rage, slammed his left shoulder against Grunwald's and with a burst of strength pushed him backwards.

Before the First Mate could press home his attack another slave lunged at him, wielding part of a broken spar as a makeshift club. As Grunwald make to re-join the fight his attention was drawn by a flicker of movement in the corner of his left eye. On instinct he stepped away and raised his sword, just blocking the scimitar. The corsair spat at him and pressed his attack, seeking an opening.

Ahmed locked hilts with a black-bearded pirate, struggling to push him back. The pirate twisted his blade slightly and jerked its tip across the slave's cheek. Ignoring the pain Ahmed managed a strong kick to the man's shin. Momentarily distracted the pirate eased pressure on his enemy's blade. Ahmed jerked the cutlass upwards, punched his enemy in the face and slashed the man's belly open as he fell back. A downward cut finished the job and Ahmed pulled the blade clear.

A tall, heavily built man locked swords with him, screaming and yelling with every cut. Ahmed fell back before the onslaught, blocking and dodging as best he could. Abruptly his foot caught a coil of rope lying on deck and he stumbled. Boris knocked aside Ahmed's blade with his own and slashed him across the neck with a boarding axe, almost decapitating the man. Screaming a battle cry the big Kisletive hurled himself back into the fray, plying sword and axe in a bloody arc.

A-A-A

In the corridor outside the captain's cabin the sentry stood, listening to the battle raging outside. He yearned to get up on deck and join his crewmates, but his orders were to stay here and here he would remain. Commodore Wolf had given strict orders that any women prisoners were to be guarded at all times when the ship was in action, no exceptions. He gave a sigh of frustration-what good could he possibly do here?

The man turned as the door opened, raising a hand to as Ellaine de Brionne appeared.

"Not so fast miss, the commodore gave orders that you were to remain in the cabin until further notice."

"I know that sir but I am afraid I need to attend to a call of nature and I cannot wait any longer."

"I am sorry milady but you will just have to control yourself. Orders are orders and you have to stay in the cabin until ordered otherwise."

"Sir I must insist that you let me through," she attempted to brush past him, only to be stopped as he thrust a burly arm out in front of her.

"I said get bac…" the man doubled over as she rammed the steak knife into his belly, his features twisting into a mask of pain. Ellaine pulled out the knife and struck him again, drawing a gasp from his lips. Without another sound the sentry fell to the floor, rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling with sightless eyes.

"It's over, you can come out."

Julia opened the door to its full extent, gazing with awe at what her friend had done. Jane came up beside her, turning away in horror when she saw the blood now soaking the man's shirt.

Using the knife Ellaine proceeded to cut a gash in the hem of her dress, and then ripped away part of the lower section to leave her feet exposed.

"What are you doing now?" Julia felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.

"If I am going to fight in this thing then I need to avoid tripping over the hem."

Jane gave her a sharp glance "what on earth do you mean by fight in that thing?"

Ellaine picked up the dead corsair's scimitar, "I am going out there to help and you two need to stay here. Barricade the door and do not come out unless someone you know asks you to."

"Don't be ridiculous Ellaine!" Jane seemed to be on the verge of shouting, "you can't go out there, it's dangerous. And besides we should be staying together right now. It is not a woman's place to involve herself in battle!"

The Bretonnian pointed down the corridor, her tone edged with anger, "there are men fighting and dying for their freedom out there. I will not sit here and do nothing whilst our fellow prisoners fight and die. It is…dishonourable!"

Jane opened her mouth to protest further, but Julia laid a hand on her shoulder, "that is enough Jane, she is right." She turned to her friend, "just be careful Ellaine, I don't want to have to attend your funeral."

"I will be back, do not fear for me." Ellaine turned and ran down the corridor. The other women watched her go, and closed the door. Jane lowered her gaze, teary eyed, "we should have stopped her."

Julia shook her head sadly, "she could not have been stopped."

A-A-A

Back on deck the corsairs were slowly gaining the upper hand. Their prisoners had the advantage in numbers but this counted for little when half of them were currently below decks with only two hatchways through which to escape. The corsairs, being both better armed and in better condition, had cut down most of those who had made it on deck and were now pushing the rest back towards the hatches. If they could just force them back below decks then the fight would be as good as over.

Ellaine's appearance was unnoticed at first. Unlike the _Vulture,_ whose cabins had to be entered through the hatchways, the _Harbinger's _threecabinswereaccessed through a corridor that led directly on to the main deck. Amidst the fighting no one had thought to watch the doorway to this corridor. She was quick to take advantage of this and managed to cut down three corsairs before any of them realised she was there. Two more men turned to face her. One was tackled from behind by an escaped slave, the second slashed at her wildly with his cutlass. Ellaine ducked under the blow and swung her own sword up to tear a deep gash in the man's sword-arm. Her return slash opened his throat. But she had no time to savour the victory as two more corsairs moved to engage her. The Bretonnian woman backed away, parrying as best she could. But by her actions and by the two corsairs turning to face her, a gap was opened in the line of corsairs through which several slaves now began struggling to push through.

At the foot of the quarter-deck Grunwald and Muktara continued their duel, the men on both sides giving these combatants a wide birth. They had been fighting for more than five minutes now and neither man showed signs of yielding. Both were well matched in strength and speed, and one week chained to an oar had not been enough to enfeeble the burly boatswain. Sparks flew as their blades clashed, sweat streamed down their faces.

The boatswain lunged with a thrust aimed for the heart, Muktara parried, Grunwald slashed, Muktara jumped backwards. Grunwald pressed after him, Muktara spun to his right, weapon poised to strike the boatswain as he went past. At the last minute Grunwald spun on his left foot and cannoned into the corsair. Both men lost their footing and went sprawling. The corsair rolled out on top, pushed Grunwald down and struck him on the forehead with the pommel of his sword. Grunwald gasped, losing his grip on his own sword. Grinning with triumph Muktara lifted his sword for another blow…

…and shuddered as something struck him in his right side. Grunwald twisted the knife, feeling it catch against the ribs. The corsair roared in pain, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He brought the sword down, feeling the pommel impact uselessly against the deck. Grabbing the man's throat, Grunwald forced him sideways, rolling them both over to come out on top. Ripping the knife free he stabbed downwards twice at the throat. Muktara gave one last scream, muffled by the blood from his mouth, and lay still.

Nearby Armittage suddenly found himself face to face with Boris. Smiling cruelly the big man spat out a glob of phlegm.

"This time none shall save you."

Their blades met with a shower of sparks and Armittage reeled back against the railing. His opponent brought a boarding axe down in a powerful overhead arc. Armittage rolled aside and the blade lodged firmly into the woodwork. His scimitar slashed Boris below the ribs, drawing blood. Boris let go of the axe and lashed out with the cutlass. The sailor rolled away from the blow, trying to put some distance between himself and his opponent. Boris lunged after him, a wolf seeking to trap its prey.

Ellaine parried a thrust and slashed her aggressor across the face. Another corsair charged her. She met his lunge, parried and counter-lunged. Her opponent parried, stepped back and caught his foot on the body of another corsair. Feinting with a lunge, she spun the blade round in her hand, looped it over her opponent's sword and drove the point through his chest.

Atcher took half a step away from the slave he was fighting, and then sprang at him, easily avoiding the man's clumsy slash. A quick twist of the wrist, a swift lunge and the slave fell backwards, coughing blood as the rapier pierced his jugular. The nobleman stepped forward and delivered a killing stroke to the fallen man's heart, but in doing so he failed to notice the small spindly figure creeping up on him. With a wild scream Erard leapt onto the older man's back and sent them both crashing to the deck.

"Why you little shit!"

Atcher snapped his head backwards, striking Erard in the jaw hard enough break the boy's hold. Erard fell backwards and his enemy groped for his sword. Realising his danger the boy rolled away and disappeared amongst the mass of struggling figures.

Armittage hacked desperately at his opponent, watching helplessly as Boris parried every blow. The Kisletive used his advantage in size to force his opponent back. Armittage's sword arm was numb from the force of his enemy's blows and he had to use both hands to keep it raised. He could not keep this up much longer.

_All or nothing_.

He extended the scimitar and muttered a brief incantation. There was a flash of light and Boris staggered, blinking madly. Knowing that this was his only chance Armittage lunged, ramming the blade into the big Kisletives belly. Boris bellowed in agony, aiming a wild blow that almost removed his opponent's head. Ducking the blow the sailor twisted his sword, pulling hard to bring blood spraying from the wound. This seemed only to enrage the Kisletive further. Discarding his weapon he grabbed Armittage by the throat, thumbs and fingers tightening around the smaller man's neck.

Armittage gasped for breath as the pressure increased. He struggled hard, but to no avail against Boris's superior strength and before long his lungs began to burn from lack of air. Groping desperately he felt his finger close over hilt of the other man's dagger. Concentrating hard he forced two words past his lips and the weapon flew from its sheath into his hand. With the last of his strength he drove it upwards into Boris's right armpit.

Boris screamed with pain, blood now trickling from his mouth. "Bastard!"

Armittage drove the dagger into his armpit again. With another scream Boris turned and threw him the full width of the deck. He struck the railing hard, losing consciousness when he hit the planks and did not see the big Kisletive collapse with a final roar, the last of his strength spent.

Below the quarterdeck Grunwald fought hard, seizing a screaming adversary by the wrist he threw the man's sword-arm aside and slashed him across the throat.

Suddenly there was the sound of more shouting from the ship's bow; the sound of running feet and a group of men came charging down the deck to launch themselves into the fight. The boarding party sent to _Vulture_ had arrived just in time to tip the balance.

Grunwald spun round to face Wolfe, aimed a low slash for the belly. The commodore parried with his war hammer, lifted the blade up and stepped forward to ram the spike on the weapon's top into his opponent's chest. Grunwald froze. Wolfe pulled the weapon clear, stepped away and swung the flat side of the head. The blow struck Grunwald's right arm with an audible crack. As the boatswain staggered Wolfe spun on his heel, left shoulder leading, and brought the weapon round, back end first, in an upward cut that drove the curved spike into the boatswain's chest. Grunwald sagged, the dagger falling from his hand. Wolfe paused for a second to stare at his defeated opponent, before tearing the weapon clear.

Grunwald's body slumped to the deck.

Ellaine watched with horror as Grunwald fell, watched with mounting anger as Wolfe knocked his broken body aside. Taking a firm grip on her sword she moved towards him, a challenge on her lips. The fighting continued around her as corsairs and slaves continued to hack and stab at one another with wild desperation.

Wolfe turned to face the new challenge, eyed her up for a moment, and then raised his war hammer in front of his face as if in salute. As he did so his left hand swept outwards in a gesture that halted several corsairs who had begun to move towards the Bretonnian. As she moved closer Ellaine could see that the man's lips were moving, could just discern a faint muttering coming from behind the bloody weapon. She dropped into a fighting stance, sword held above her head in the classic high guard.

Wolfe ceased his mutterings and kissed the war hammer. Taking gripping the weapon in both hands he began to rotate it in a series of widening circles. Slowly a ball of darkness that was blacker than the night itself began to grow in size with the circle. Ellaine watched with mounting trepidation, muttering a prayer to the Lady of the Lake as the Commodore ceased moving his hammer, raised the weapon above his head and brought it down upon the black sphere.

There was no sound, no dramatic shattering as she had expected. Instead the sphere simply dispersed under the descending hammer. The dark mass scattered away from Wolfe in a one hundred and eighty degree spread, fanning out to engulf all in its path.

Ellaine raised her sword in an attempt to deflect the incoming missiles but to no avail. Wrapping themselves around the steel blade the tendrils seemed to roll up her arm, past her shoulder and entwine themselves around her body. The feeling was like falling into an ice-cold lake, the shock so great that she dropped her sword and fell to her knees, struggling for breath. She willed her arms to move but they seemed to have lost their strength and refused to obey her. Slowly, helplessly, Ellaine felt herself sink to the deck.

From the direction of the hatchway there came terrible screams and the clatter of weapons hitting the deck. Silence descended like a dark curtain and through the haze of white light she could see a familiar tall figure clad in red. He extended a hand in which was clasped a long, thin blade and lightly pressed the tip to her neck. A trickle of blood leaked from the cut.

TBC.

A-A-A


	31. Quarter be Damned!

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story.

Hello to all my readers. I finally got the next chapter up and running. I hope you like it (stayed up most of the night to get this completed). I am not the best at writing combat scenes so I hope this does not disappoint anyone. This is also the last chapter but one before I conclude the story, I hope everyone has enjoyed it, and as always please read and review.

A-A-A

Wolfe lowered his war hammer, taking deep breathes to steady his racing heart. He had always found that spell to be very draining, even more so since leaving the priesthood, but he could at least reflect with satisfaction that the effect had been worth it and that those slaves still on deck were now either dead dying. Once he had secured the upper deck his own men, untouched by the effects of the spell, would soon be able to subdue those still fighting below. Superior numbers were of no use if they could not be brought to bear, the narrow corridors would see to that.

However there were still some matters to attend to.

"Mr Atcher! I have told you before. Lower your sword at once!"

The young nobleman froze at his voice but did not lower the blade. Grunting angrily Wolfe strode forward and shouldered him aside, knocking his sword to the deck.

"When I give you an order Mr Atcher I expect it to be obeyed!"

Without another glance at the younger man Wolfe bent down and seized Ellaine by the throat, dragging the woman to feet. Ellaine gasped for breath as his iron-hard fingers squeezed her throat, pain shooting through her neck as Wolfe actually lifted her from her feet. She stared down into a pair of cold, unfeeling eyes and a harsh voice spoke to her from seemingly far away.

"I warned you woman, I warned you what the penalty would be for such disobedience. Now I can see that you will have to be taught a harsh lesson. For your disobedience I will have your maid put to death slowly, painfully, and you will watch. It will give you something to think about when I have you sent to the slave market of Sartossa."

Ellaine felt a jolt of horror run through her at his words, feeling a new strength flow into her limbs. Gathering herself together she brought her right foot up to kick Wolfe squarely in the groin. With a gasp of pain he doubled over, released his grip and let her drop to the deck. Her legs would not support her weight and buckled. She hit the deck with a thump, gasping.

Several corsairs took a step forward, but held back from further action until their leader gave an order. After a moment Wolfe straightened up, glaring down at the woman, "status report!"

One of the corsairs stepped forward and saluted smartly. Wolfe did not look at the man as he spoke.

"We have the slaves trapped below decks sir. They are still trying to break through up here but I am certain that we will have them under control shortly".

Wolfe nodded, "that is good. Put this woman under guard and rig up a halter in the hold once the slaves are subdued. Then you may get the cat ready. Mr Atcher!"

Atcher met his gaze warily, "yes…sir."

"See to your bodyguard. And when we have finished I may allow you to have little fun with this one."

Atcher grinned, "may the gods bless you sir."

"Shut up," hefting his war hammer Wolfe strode towards the hatchway, observing the sound of savage fighting coming from below. _Time to end this_. Uttering a short prayer he began to swing his hammer in steady circles, his men falling back nervously as the circle of black mist began to form…

…and suddenly dissipated when a scream to his left shattered Wolfe's concentration. Heads jerked round sharply at the sound of a pair of heavy thuds. At the foot of the mast lay the two corsairs who had climbed the rigging to fire down on the slaves. One man was still, a feathered shaft protruding from his left breast. The second was still alive, groaning with pain and clutching at the shaft embedded in his left arm. As the men stood taking in this sight there was a sudden whistling and the sailor who had taken Wolfe's order fell backwards as the arrow struck him in the chest.

Wolfe cursed, seizing the nearest corsair and using him as a shield. Squinting over the man's shoulder he spotted a tall figure standing in the bows, a curved bow levelled at the corsairs. Almost in slow motion he saw the figure notch an arrow, pull back the string and loose it. The man in front of Wolfe fell back against him with a soft gasp. Throwing him aside Wolfe pointed his hammer at the figure.

"Kill him!"

With a roar three dozen pirates sprang forwards, screaming for blood.

A-A-A

Down below decks Selby was fighting hard to hold the passageway, his sabre clashing with that of the corsair who faced him. At his side one of his fellow escapees stood trading blows with a second corsair. The corridor was too narrow to allow more that two people to face one another at a time, but behind both parties more men continued to press forward, occasionally thrusting a sword through a gap between the two combatants at the front. His arms ached and his feet were slipping in the pool of blood that had begun to build up in the corridor yet still he fought on, knowing the consequences of capture.

Selby did not know what had happened on deck, he only knew that something must have happened to turn the tide. The slaves had been in the ascendancy, then there had been terrible screaming from above and suddenly they had been forced back down the corridor.

It had been a hard fought retreat-the way back from the hatchway was strewn with bodies from both sides, indeed one reason the corsairs had only managed to push halfway down the corridor was because those behind them were tripping over the bodies of their comrades and victims alike.

But this could not go on. The corsairs were better armed and better trained and if the slaves did not regain their momentum they were doomed.

His foot slipped and he fell backwards. The corsair opposite him lunged, blade held high.

A-A-A

The figure in the bows coolly notched another arrow and dropped a corsair with a shot through the throat. The man fell like a stone but the rest came on. When the group was barely twenty paces distant the figure tossed its bow aside, stepped forward with its left arm held out before it and uttered a strange word.

From its outstretched hand there came a roaring stream of fire. It swept out to engulf the four corsairs on the port side. The figure swept its arm back and forth once, cutting a line across the tightly packed mass with the inferno. Abruptly the fire dissipated and Joseph stepped forward to survey his handiwork. More than three dozen men lay dead or dying and the air was heavy with the smell of charred cloth and flesh. With a smile of satisfaction he strode forward, the corsairs falling back before him in fear. Even Wolfe seemed unsure.

The elf's left hand reached to a baldric strung across his chest to draw a long-bladed dagger. An arrow flew past his ear and another corsair fell with a scream. Joseph did not look back, merely taking aim and dropping another corsair with a knife to the throat. Behind him Louisa notched another arrow, took aim and shot another corsair in the chest. Joseph drew a second knife. Another corsair fell.

James Atcher leapt forward to do battle. Joseph sidestepped the man's lunge, spun on his heel and struck him on the back of the head with the pommel of his sword. Atcher sprawled in an unconscious heap.

Louisa drew her bow again and let loose, dropping another corsair.

"Take him out!" Wolfe's bellow of anger drove more corsairs forward. Joseph raised his left arm. The oncoming men halted, and then began scurrying to get away. They could not move fast enough. When the fire cleared a dozen men lay in a charred heap and flames were beginning to engulf a large pile of ropes that had been left on deck.

"Fire, fire!" with yells of panic most of the remaining corsairs ran to put out the flames, the elf momentarily forgotten. The rest hung back, none wanting to be the first to face this deadly foe and his fire.

Finding herself unguarded Ellaine rose unsteadily to her feet, snatching up a discarded sabre.

Joseph continued to advance, his left arm moved up and down in a flash. Another man fell dead. The elf halted fifteen paces from the commodore, sword extended, the tip pointing at Wolfe's heart.

"Karl Wolfe, the church of Morr has placed a bounty of six thousand in gold on your head. I am here to claim it."

With a sneer of contempt Wolfe hefted his war hammer, "come and take my head if you can, fool!"

Both combatants stood still, facing each other in stony silence. Suddenly Joseph sprang forwards, sword striking down from over his left shoulder. Wolfe parried the blow with his hammer, twisted his wrists and turned the parry into a strike at his opponent's right shoulder. Joseph stepped backwards, narrowly avoiding the strike. As he moved his sword swept upwards. Wolfe drew back, blood flowing from a gash under his chin.

Joseph renewed the attack, cutting left and right with a series of lightning strikes aimed at the torso. Wolfe parried each blow, but the speed and ferocity of his opponent's attacks forced him back towards the quarterdeck.

Suddenly Wolfe stepped aside as his opponent lunged, caught the sword's point with his hammer, jerked to his right whilst pushing the blade away and slashed at his enemy. Though Joseph jerked away to avoid the brunt of the attack the result was a thin gash on his left forearm as the hammer's spike tore through the thin leather above the plate bracer.

Several corsairs fanned out, looking for an opening to attack the elf's unprotected back. An arrow struck the deck between the two nearest men and they stopped moving, casting nervous glances at the woman on the quarterdeck whose bow was levelled squarely at them.

Ellaine traced the path of the arrow, a feeling of relief flooding through her as she recognised Louisa. Knowing that her friend was safe for now lifted a burden from her mind, but the clash of steel reminded her that they were both still in danger. She drew several deep breaths and forced her legs to steady. Taking a firm grip on her sword she readied herself to attack any corsair who attempted to intervene.

A-A-A

The blade bit into the woodwork, missing Selby's leg by an inch. He kicked out desperately, catching his aggressor in the face with enough force to knock him backwards. Sliding on the blood-stained boards he somehow regained his footing, only to be driven backwards as another corsair pushed past his injured comrade. A slave pushed past Selby, lunged forward and fell as the corsair slashed him across the face. A second blow severed the jugular, spraying blood over the walls and corsairs alike. Slowly but surely the slaves were being pushed back down the corridor.

A-A-A

From the hatchway shouts and the clash of steel could still be heard but no one on deck paid them any attention. Even the corsairs who had been occupied with putting out the fire were now returning their attention to the fight on deck, the flames having been extinguished.

Joseph was still unscathed and showed no sign of tiring. His movements were quick and nimble, wasting neither breathe nor energy. Twice his blade broke through his enemy's defences, once to slash open the commodore's face below the right eye, and again to drive the tip into his left arm.

In contrast Wolfe appeared slow and cumbersome, his breathing was becoming heavier and sweat streamed down his forehead. Yet he did not give up, but kept up a steady defence, going on the offence where possible in an effort to trap his opponent against an obstacle and bring about a slugging match where his stockier frame would be an advantage.

Joseph sidestepped the man's lunge, his sword flicking out. Somehow the corsair parried the move, locked weapons and shoulder charged his opponent. They struck one-another hard and Joseph gasped as pain shot down his right arm. Seizing his opening Wolfe head-butted him in the jaw and forced him backwards. Wolfe pursued the elf, thrusting with the hammer's spike. Joseph side-stepped too late and it caught his left arm, only being turned aside by the leather jerkin. He spun away. Wolfe followed, locking weapons, using his greater weight and momentum to force his enemy further backwards. Joseph gave a grunt of pain as the pirate's right arm struck his own, tearing loose the bandage he had bound over the wound and forcing blood out to stain the fabric anew. He sprang back, putting space between himself and his enemy, but one look at the pirate's face told him that the man had seen his advantage.

Wolfe paused to regain breath and to formulate a plan. He knew he could not beat this warrior in fair fight. If it went on much longer his opponent would likely outlast him and deliver a fatal blow when his guard inevitably dropped. Forcing his opponent back and trying to trip the man over an obstacle, one of his favourite tactics; was out of the question. This one stepped over all obstacles on the deck without looking, clearly he knew enough about shipboard fighting not to fall into such a trap. Of course he could always pull back and set his crew on the warrior. But he had accepted a challenge to single combat and to back out now would be taken for the act of a coward. The men would still do as he said but once word of his actions got around Sartossa it would provide his political opponents with more ammunition to use against him. Wolfe prided himself on leading by example and to back away from a challenge would damage his reputation severely.

_I must use trickery then, and I must be quick. Use the dark shot and then strike for the sword arm. He is wounded there, it should fail. Then go for the throat. Do not miss!_

Wolfe began to breathe deeply, focussing his mind on the new task at hand. Joseph watched as the head of the war hammer was engulfed by dark tendrils of mist. No sooner had they formed when the corsair lunged with an overhead swing. Joseph parried the blow and punched his enemy in the jaw. Wolfe shrugged off the blow and struck again. The elf blocked the incoming strike, staring with shock as the tendrils of mist began to detach themselves from the hammer and thread their way up his arm. He fell back, struggling to hold his sword. Wolfe stepped back, lowered his war hammer and with a single word sent a beam of dark energy straight towards the elf. It struck him the abdomen and spread out to engulf him. Scenting victory Wolfe rushed forward.

Suddenly a faint glow shone from amidst the swirl of darkness. Wolfe had just enough time to register this when the dark mist dissipated into nothing and the figure they had previously engulfed dropped into a fighting stance, to all appearances unruffled by the strange experience.

Joseph, a faint glow emanating from his throat, sidestepped his surprised adversary's lunge. As the man went past Joseph whipped out a dagger and rammed it up into the corsair's stomach. The man's momentum carried him past for several feet before he could stop.

Wolfe stared at the dagger's hilt in disbelief, unwilling to accept what had just happened. Slowly he reached down and placed a hand round the hilt, feeling the rough texture of the leather on the handle. With a sudden roar of rage he spun round and hurled the war hammer at his assailant. Joseph stayed where he was, merely twisting sideways on the spot and allowing the weapon to sail past him to thud harmlessly into the timber railing. Breathing heavily, his expression twisted with hate, Wolfe ripped the dagger from his belly and threw it at the elf with all his strength.

It was a poor throw, the pain of his wound had spoiled his aim and the weapon missed its target by a good four inches. Grunting with the effort and with blood now pouring from his wound Wolfe trudged towards his adversary. He managed a few steps before falling to his knees, unable to support himself. His men watched in dismay and disbelief as Joseph walked forward to within two feet of his fallen enemy.

Wolfe looked up into a pair of cold blank eyes.

"Quarter?" he asked, hands raised in surrender.

"Quarter be damned," Joseph stepped back and swung his sword.

Ellaine watched in disbelief as Wolfe's head flew from his shoulders, landing at the feet of one of the corsairs. _But he had surrendered…_

The corsairs seemed equally disbelieving, stunned at the death of their leader.

Knowing that the spell could break at any moment and that the battle was not yet won Joseph leapt away and made for the hatchway. Before anyone had time to move he had reached the opening and, hearing the shouts from below, dropped down into the opening.

The elf pointed his left arm down the corridor at the writhing mass before him.

"Accendo!"

Narrowing the beam as much as possible to avoid touching the timber he maintained the blast for a full five seconds, drawing terrifying screams that seemed to reverberate through the corridor.

A-A-A

Ellaine stood facing the remaining corsairs. Eighteen of them now remained, still numb from what they had just witnessed. Slowly, some began to stir, their attention drawn once more to the screams from the hatchway. They began to move forwards. Ellaine raised her sword, wondering how many she could take down before being overwhelmed.

The corsairs suddenly halted, uncertainty registering on their faces. Risking a glance to her right Ellaine saw Joseph's rising up from the hatchway, his gaze sweeping the deck.

His left arm rose and fell.

The last corsair on the quarterdeck fell backwards as the knife struck him in the throat. Ignoring the woman to his left Joseph raised his left arm and moved it back and forth along the cluster of pirates. They began to shuffle nervously, guessing what was about to happen.

"Drop your weapons or die where you stand!"

Ellaine moved up beside him, sword in hand. In the bows Louisa loosed another arrow, reminding the corsairs of her presence.

A long pause followed, both parties staring at each other in silence. Joseph decided to sway their decision and squeezed off a two second burst of flame that fell just short of group. The corsairs fell back in disarray.

"I will not ask again."

The nearest corsair threw down his cutlass. The man next to him, seeing this, dropped his boarding axe. One by one the remaining men threw down their weapons, hands raised in surrender.

Joseph motioned to the port railing, "sit down over there, hands on your heads. If any of you try anything you all die."

The corsairs hastened to obey, sitting down in a loose cluster.

Joseph watched them warily, his ears trained on the hatchway. There were no more shouts from below, only faint groans. He tensed at the sound of running footsteps on the ladder. _If that's a corsair then we are in serious trouble_.

The footsteps stopped, then resumed at a slower pace. A lone figure emerged from hatchway. It was short, well-muscled man clad only in britches. Another man followed him. Joseph recognised him as Kennet, the _Vulture's _carpenter and one of the men he had rescued in the bar room brawl.

Slowly, hesitantly, more men came up behind them, halting to stare at the sight of a deck strewn with bodies, of eighteen corsairs seated to one side of the deck and of the strange silver-haired figure whom none who had known him had expected to see again.

"Mr Kennet," Joseph spoke calmly, his gaze still fixed upon the prisoners.

Kennet managed to pull himself out of his trance, "yes?"

"Is the ship ours?"

Kennet glanced along the deck, staring again at the elf's captives, "so it would appear."

"Then you had better take these men in hand. I suggest you chain them up on the oars, let get some exercise on the rest of the voyage. After all I very much doubt they will have such an opportunity where they will be going."

"Aye, I guess your right there." The slaves began gathering weapons from the bodies of the fallen. Once armed the prisoners were rounded up and marched below decks in ones and twos, enduring verbal abuse and even beatings from their former slaves who were now determined to get even with their tormentors.

Joseph nodded as Selby appeared on deck, his left arm in a sling.

"Well, I didn't expect to see you again elf."

"Indeed, I do have a habit of turning up when people least expect it." He looked around, "where is captain Varus?"

Selby shook his head, "he didn't make it. But I think the boatswain…" he broke off when he caught sight of Grunwald's corpse and his next word was barely a whisper, "no…"

"See to him, we have until dawn before sailing."

Almost as though in a trance Selby nodded slowly and walked towards his fallen friend. He felt numb, so many dead. How many had come through it alive?

A-A-A

"Will he be allright?" Ellaine looked down at the unconscious figure of Richard Armittage with concern, noting the dried blood on his clothing,

"I think so milady," Louisa was checking the fallen man for wounds, her fingers gently brushing aside the bloodied clothing, relieved to find no wounds beneath. "It doesn't seem to be his blood, "we just have to wait for him to wake up."

Their conversation was interrupted when its subject stirred, groaning. Ellaine laid a restraining hand on her maid's shoulder, "give him a moment, and let him come to his senses." Both women took several paces back, Louisa with some reluctance, watching as Richard Armittage slowly regained consciousness.

The first thing Armittage felt was a throbbing pain on the back of his head. Gingerly he reached back, feeling a large lump. _What the…wait a minute. _Images began to flash before him, the big Kisletive looming above him, his sabre slashing the man's belly, a great scream and then…silence. _Of course, now I remember. The battle…he must have knocked me out somehow and…the battle! _He forced his eyes open, his face assuming a puzzled expression as he beheld the two women before him.

"Louisa, but how can you…"

"Hush now Richard," she knelt down beside him and gave him a gentle smile, "it is all over now. The ship is ours."

Armittage sighed with relief and pulled the surprised woman into a hug, "I'm glad you're safe."

"Likewise," she returned his embrace.

Ellaine smiled and moved away, deciding to allow the two of them some time alone.

It was then that she remembered the two women still shut up in the cabin. _Oh dear, they won't be very happy if they learn I forgot all about them_. She giggled at the thought, but her laughter died in her throat as she took in the sight of the charred bodies.

_So much death in such a small place, who could believe it possible?_

The sight brought back painful memories, memories of the aftermath of battles she had fought in, memories she would rather forget. Lowering her head she made her way towards the quarterdeck.

A-A-A

Joseph finished stacking another body against the side and stood up slowly, easing the ache in his back. _I must be getting old_.

He saw one of the slaves bending over the severed head of Karl Wolfe and moved forward quickly.

"Leave that alone!" The slave jerked up sharply at his approach and he drew his sword, "I have a claim on this thing," The elf stooped down, picked up the severed head and dropped it into a sack he had found on deck, "and I will brook no interference."

The slave backed away hastily with both hands raised, "no need to get nasty."

A-A-A

"Can you stand?"

Richard grinned, "well, maybe if I had a little help I could walk to the quarterdeck."

Louisa returned his grin, "and what help exactly did you have in mind Mr Armittage?"

"Well, help me up and we'll see."

"Don't push your luck!" Louisa fought to keep down a giggle. Allowing him to place his arm round her neck she helped him to his feet and, supporting his weight, helped him to his feet. Slowly the two of them made their way through the scene of carnage. Louisa grimaced as they passed the still form of James Atcher. There was one person she would feel no sympathy for. In many ways she felt a lot better knowing that the man could not trouble her or her mistress again.

As the two figures moved past him Atcher suddenly sprang to his feet and lunged for the pair. A savage blow with the pommel of his rapier sent bright lights flashing behind Armittage's eyes. Before he could recover the nobleman struck the seaman again, kicked him away, grabbed Louisa by the hair and pulled her against him. She struggled at first, but became still when he dropped his sword and pressed the cold blade of a dagger against her throat.

Several men, seeing what had happened, started forward with weapons raised.

"Stay back," Atcher backed away, keeping his hostage between himself and the slaves, "now I will tell you what is going to happen here. You men are going to load one of the boats we have alongside us with some provisions for a short journey that I need to make. The lady and I are then going to take a little trip in the boat. Once we reach the shore I will allow her to go free, but if anyone tries to follow me she dies. Stay where you are Armittage, don't try to trick me into thinking you will allow her to die!"

Armittage backed away, a feeling of helplessness washing over him. There was nothing he could do, he had no weapon to use and even if his head had not been throbbing so painfully there was no spell he could use against the man without putting Louisa in danger. With great reluctance he backed away. "Do what he says men; he will kill her before we take him down."

"Very wise of you Mr Armittage and you had better stay where I can see you elf. I doubt the young lady's mistress would be very pleased if you were to cause the death of her precious servant."

"If you kill here then I kill you, you really don't strike me as the suicidal type Atcher."

"Don't be too sure elf. You will step back and have the men comply with my wishes immediately, is that clear?"

Joseph held his gaze, "I really don't see that happening."

"And yet I do, that is if you want to see her live."

"You see this," Joseph held up one of the small daggers he had thrown earlier in the battle, "if you do anything other than let her go then I am going to cut your prick off with it, followed by your balls. After that I might just get creative."

"Pretty speech elf," Atcher's voice had no trace of fear in it, "but I don't buy it. Perhaps you all need a little demonstration." He pressed the tip of the dagger to Louisa's throat. Blood trickled from the wound. Joseph took a step forward, "you're only killing her elf. Any closer and I will kill her."

"For Manaan's sake elf, do it "Armittage's voice was laced with fear, "he is crazy enough to do it."

Joseph stared into the nobleman's eyes and realised that Armittage was right. Up till now he had viewed Atcher as a typical noble-brought up with wealth and used to getting his own way-vindictive, cruel, selfish and ready to seize any opportunity to get even with others, but nothing more. Now he saw that he had underestimated the man. These were not the actions of a spoiled aristocrat or of a desperate man. Underneath it all James Atcher was truly insane.

Joseph sheathed his knife. The man was too far away to risk a throw. "Load the boat Mr Selby."

Selby looked at him in disbelief, "but if he gets away with her…"

"We have no choice, just do it!" If they went along with the man's demands he might just drop his guard and give them an opening. A slim chance, but it was all they had.

"No."

The sudden shout drew every gaze to Ellaine, who was striding forward defiantly, her bloodied sabre held at her side.

Atcher watched her approach warily, "stay back woman, or your servant pays the penalty."

"Your quarrel is with me Mr Atcher, not her. I suggest we settle this now, once and for all."

"And just what exactly do you propose?"

She held her sword out before her, "fight me. If you win you go free, my word."

"Your word carries little weight I am afraid, unless the others agree."

"They will agree, is that not so?" She turned to look at the elf. After a moment's pause he shrugged his shoulders, hands clasped behind his back.

"You have my word. If you win the duel you may go free. No one here will try to stop you, understood?" He looked around for signs of disagreement, no one argued.

Atcher smiled, "well you make a very tempting offer milady, and the gods only know how often I've dreamed of settling my differences with you. But I think I will have to settle for the servant, after all she does seem to present me with a better chance of escape wouldn't you agree."

"You son of a bitch," Ellaine's features twisted in anger, "for once act like a man and fight with honour."

"Honour!" Atcher threw back his head and brayed with laughter, "oh you Bretonnians and your ridiculous code of chivalry, always clinging to useless rules that only make winning even harder."

"I challenge you to a duel Mr Atcher, and if you refuse I will know you for a coward who was happy to beat a woman when she was held down, but is too fearful to face that same woman with a sword. I owe you for this you coward!" she pulled the bandage off her head to reveal her black eye, still painfully swollen.

Atcher's amused grin was rapidly turning to a look of anger, "careful woman, you are making me angry. I tell you now, shut up and do as I say."

Joseph chuckled loudly enough to be heard, "well if you are afraid you cannot beat her…"

"I'm afraid of nothing," with an angry shout he threw Louisa aside and snatched up his rapier. "I accept your challenge bitch. It will be a pleasure killing you, come on!"

Ellaine parried his thrust with her sabre. Her return slash was dodged. Atcher twisted his wrist and swept his rapier across her shoulder, cutting loose a lock of brown hair that fell to the deck.

"One piece at a time bitch, which is how I will take you."

Ellaine said nothing.

Their first blows were tentative, light strikes meant to test their opponent's reactions. Ellaine was the first to step up the pace, stepping forward quickly with a strike to the chest. Atcher parried and thrust. Ellaine parried and reposted. They separated as quickly as they had joined battle, pausing to assess one another. A few seconds passed, then at an unspoken signal they both lunged.

The two warriors used different tactics. Ellaine tried to keep the fighting in close where she employ the heavier sword's weight to better effect and where she would have a better opportunity to slash her opponent with the sword's long edge. Atcher on the other hand tried to open the range to where he could use the rapier's greater reach. It was useless as a slashing weapon, relying solely on the precision thrust to do the job.

Backing away he intercepted the woman's blade, twisted his wrist to spin it underneath her guard and thrust for the shoulder. Ellaine deflected the stroke and slashed him across the right arm, opening up a deep gash. Atcher fell back, clutching the wound and almost dropping his sword. Blood began to seep through his fingers.

"You bitch!"

She smiled sweetly, "I can draw your blood little man. Come to me and bleed some more."

With an angry roar he lunged, his blade licking back and forth with such speed that Ellaine was forced onto the defensive, backing away from the thin strap of metal as it traced complex circular patterns through the air.

Atcher surprised her with a feint to the right, anticipated her parry and twisted his wrist to the right, executing a small circle that repositioned the blade to point squarely at her left shoulder. He feigned a lunge and as she stepped aside to avoid it he reversed the manoeuvre and lunged. Caught off guard Ellaine could not react in time and the blade buried itself in her right upper arm. She fell back with a cry of pain, dropping her sword. Deftly pulling the blade clear Atcher cut downwards, slashing open her skirt and drawing a line of blood across her left thigh, laughing maniacally as he pulled back. Ellaine stumbled and fell, pain searing through her leg.

"I must admit I did not anticipate that you would provide me with this much sport milady. But do not worry; we will have some more fun before this is over. Kindly pick up your sword."

Ellaine drew in deep breathes in an effort to steady herself. _Lady of the Lake, your humble servant begs you, help me. Please._ With an effort she rose to her feet, picking up the sabre. The pain in her sword arm had rendered it useless and she would have to fight left-handed, which placed her at a distinct disadvantage. Holding the sabre out before her gingerly, she advanced.

Atcher stepped back, spun the rapier and thrust for the upper left arm. Ellaine stepped back but could block the blow. It slipped past her guard and struck its target…

…only to recoil as though striking solid stone. Ellaine reacted quickly, her riposte cutting a second gash in the man's sword arm. This time Atcher dropped his weapon and fell back gripping his arm in pain. Ellaine advanced, pressing the sword to his throat and forcing him back against the guardrail.

"Surrender."

"Yes, I do," he lowered his head in defeat.

Ellaine regarded him for a moment, and then lowered her sword. Stepping away from him she tossed the weapon aside, her hand going to her bleeding arm. Louisa hurried forward to attend to her wounded mistress. Neither saw Atcher look up, his face etched with hatred. With his left hand he drew a dagger from his belt and lunged for the woman's unprotected back.

Joseph saw this and barked a warning, "behind you!"

Spinning round Ellaine managed to sidestep so that the blow intended for her back only grazed her right arm. Grunting in anger Atcher spun round for another strike. Ellaine caught his wrist in her left hand, brought her right hand up underneath his arm, twisted it round and locked both her hands into place. Stepping to her right she forced the man's arm down, sending waves of pain shooting up his arm. Forcing him further down she summoned all her strength, ignoring the pain in her own arm, and flipped him head over heels onto his back, tearing the dagger from his grasp in the process.

Atcher rolled away, scrabbling for a discarded sword.

"Oh really." A pair of heavy boots came into his field of vision and Joseph's sword stabbed downward to skewer the nobleman's left hand to the deck. He pulled the blade clear and repeated the manoeuvre with the right hand. Atcher screamed in agony, pulling his wounded extremities to his chest.

Joseph regarded him coldly, "take this man below decks and secure him. If he tries anything cut his throat."

As Atcher was led away Joseph glanced up and met Ellaine's eyes, "very good milady, for a beginner."

She smiled in reply, "thank you."

A-A-A

TBC.


	32. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I do not own Warhammer or the Games Workshop products and I am not gaining any financial benefits from writing this story. Just a lot of fun.

A-A-A

The sun was high in the sky, its rays bathing the sea below in gold. The two ships were dark specks on its radiant surface, their passing sending out gentle ripples to disturb the calm sea. From their positions in the two ship's crow's nests the lookouts could see no sign of another vessel and this suited the occupants of the ships just fine, after their recent experience no one on board was eager to see another ship.

"All clear sir, no sail in sight."

Selby acknowledged Erard's signal with a brief salute before turning to the figure beside him. Joseph was resting both his arms on the port guardrail, directing the occasional glance at the galley following astern of them. With only half her oars manned she was making slow progress and for the first time in years the _Vulture_ was now being forced to reduce sail for the benefit of a vessel moving slower than herself. He thought of the corsairs currently chained to those very oars, now forced to do the backbreaking work they had so long inflicted upon their slaves, and they were probably undergoing the same harsh punishments from those same slaves who now stood guard over them. Something told him that not all the corsairs would reach Miraglianno alive. Kennet and the few crewmen from the _Vulture _whom Selby had left on board as a prize crew would doubtless try to maintain order, but probably not very hard. After years of hellish existence the slaves were not to be denied their vengeance.

Shame really, the port authorities would rather have put them on trial as an example to other would-be pirates. Still there would likely be some survivors well enough to face public justice.

"Are you concerned about something?"

Joseph shook his head, "no. Things are going well. We will be in port by tomorrow morning and as long as that assistant of yours can keep station on us during the night I don't foresee any problems developing."

"And nor will you. Jonas knows his business and it will take more than a bad arm to throw him off. He'll get her in safely."

Joseph gave a slight nod, "and in any case I am sure that the young lookout will warn us if anything goes wrong."

"I'm sure he will."

"I hear he handled himself well during the battle."

"That he did, very well considering his age. I will have to make sure he is brought to the attention of the company, the lad deserves some rewards to his efforts."

"Everyone who took part in the battle deserves some reward for their efforts Mr Selby, though I daresay many of them will be satisfied with having their freedom back. But you need to be careful with what you say to the company, once word of this gets out they will likely be looking to 'cut their losses' as the saying goes".

"Aye," Selby leant sideways and rested his right elbow on the guardrail, "do you believe all that stuff".

"I do, and I am not surprised, corruption is rife in every society."

"You know something elf, even after reading all of that stuff I still find it hard to believe, I mean why on earth would they sacrifice their own ship and crew to a pirate, and with such a valuable cargo on board. It just doesn't make sense."

"On the contrary Mr Selby it makes perfect sense to me."

The mate threw him a questioning glance and he continued, "It all boils down to money, pure and simple. Look at it from the company's perspective-what they have here is an old, run-down ship that will probably be sent to a breaker's yard in a few years. It cannot be cheap to maintain her and with both the Estallian kingdoms and Araby levying heavy import taxes on all goods at the moment it must be becoming increasingly unprofitable to keep her in service."

"Now from their point of view this leaves them with two choices. They can simply send her to the yard early and receive a meagre sum of money in exchange, most of which will doubtless be used to pay off her crew. Or they can make use of a pirate with whom they have had 'unofficial' dealings for several years. He comes across the ship, captures her and takes her to Sartossa. Both parties stand to gain from this arrangement. The company can claim on the insurance for both the ship and her cargo whilst at the same time avoiding having to pay off the crew who will of course end their days as slaves. All in all they stand to make a considerably greater profit from this arrangement. And as for the commodore, well he gains another ship, a potentially valuable cargo, fresh slaves and perhaps some passengers that he can ransom for large sums of money. This also comes at a particularly vital point for him."

"Why is that?"

"Because the pirates of Sartossa will soon be holding elections for positions on their grand council and any pirate who wishes to be considered for such a post needs plenty of gold to buy the votes. He would have to be a fool to turn his nose up at such an opportunity."

The Mate looked at him in surprise, "how do you know..?"

"I read the commodore's diary."

"Oh."

"Yes, it was very informative. I believe you will be handing that in to the authorities with the other evidence?"

"I certainly shall! They must not get away with this!"

The elf regarded him levelly, "be very careful how you tread in this Mr Selby. People like the Raphael brothers do not get where they are without making connections in high places. It would not surprise me if they turn out to have friends in the higher echelons of Miragliano, perhaps even amongst the authorities. Once they hear of your allegations they will likely try to cut their losses and eliminate any threats to themselves."

"I know that Mr Joseph, I know that I will be taking a big risk and I will be on my guard at all times. But I will not be the only one testifying when this comes to trial. We will have the rest of the crew on our side, the other passengers and perhaps some of the slaves may know a few things."

Joseph was already shaking his head, "I do not intend to involve myself any further in this matter Mr Selby. If you want help I can direct you to a couple of figures in authority whom I know to be honest men. If they call me in I will answer any questions asked, but that is all."

The Mate stared at him in disbelief "you cannot be serious!"

Joseph did not look at him, "I most certainly am."

"But after what they did, they were willing to let us all die, or end up living in that hellhole of a galley. Morr alone knows how many other vessels have met that fate. We have to stop this."

"Piracy is a fact of life Mr Selby. There will always be men willing to take up the profession. In the end does it matter if some of the big brass is getting in on the act? I do not condone it by any means, but the fact remains that I have enjoyed some good business deals with your company, and I doubt they would look kindly upon my taking an active part in their prosecution. My interests are certainly not served by such an action."

Your interests! Is that all you can think about? You'll let them carry on with what they've been doing just to safeguard yourself."

"I told you, I will answer any questions the authorities care to ask me and I will not lie to them but that is all. What happens after that is not my concern."

"How can you believe that?" Selby could not believe what he was hearing, "You could easily have ended up in slavery yourself but for a stroke of good fortune."

"Correct, but I did not. It matters not to me if the company survives this or not, but if it does I do not intend to make myself an enemy of it when there is no need."

A long silence descended. Selby was the first to break it,

"Well, I guess I had the wrong idea about you sir. I am grateful to you for saving our lives of course, but I had hoped for more than this."

"I fail to see why; I never gave you any cause to think otherwise."

"Aye, and that's a great pity," disgusted by what he had just heard Selby turned and walked away to the quarterdeck, leaving the elf alone with his thoughts.

A-A-A

Selby stormed away in anger. _And to think I actually thought him a decent sort! Oh well, I suppose it should just teach me never to trust a marine._

He took out a spy glass and scanned the horizon, noting the lack of any sail. Soon they would be in port and his command of this little squadron would be over. In one way he would glad to relinquish the responsibility, for the deaths of Varus and Grunwald had left him as the senior officer and he was finding the whole business of command to be rather wearing. Yet at the same time he was dreading their arrival because he knew what would have to be done. This would most likely mean going head-to-head with the company and was likely to cost him his position, perhaps even put his life in danger. His grip on the glass tightened.

He thought of Grunwald, of Varus and of all their other shipmates, all buried at sea yesterday morning along with all the slaves who had fought beside them for freedom. The _Vulture's _company and the surviving slaves had stood silent throughout the ceremony, united in their farewells to fallen comrades.

_Do not hesitate Selby, always do what you think is right._

Selby glanced round in surprise, seeking the source of the voice. But no one was nearby save the helmsman, and it could not have been him.

Impossible, and yet for one second he had thought that he had heard the boatswain's gruff tones whispering on the wind.

A-A-A

Meanwhile, in the bowels of the corsair galley, James Atcher uttered a shriek of anger and tugged in vain at the manacles that bound him, the action bringing a fresh stream of blood from wrists already rubbed raw by constant chaffing.

Gods how could he have come to this? Everything had been going so perfectly, just one more day and he would have been in Sartossa and then on his way to Miraglianno in triumph rather than in chains. And yet at the last minute his entire world had been turned upside down.

But for all that he was not worried about his own fate. They would not hang him, he was too important for that. His father would get the company to pull a few strings; most likely he would get away with a public flogging or have the door to his cell 'accidentally' left unlocked one night. And if the company were reluctant to act…well he would just have to remind them about what he knew. There was bound to be someone he could cut a deal with.

And once he was out he intended to find those responsible for his predicament. That meddling elf, the accursed Bretonnian woman, her wretched maid and that blasted sailor Armittage. If it took his last breath he would hunt them all down and make them suffer!

A cruel laugh escaped his lips as the first thoughts of what he would inflict upon them ran through his mind. This was going to be such fun!

A-A-A

Joseph's thoughts were interrupted when he became aware of someone resting against the railing beside him. He glanced sideways into Ellaine de Brionne's curious eyes.

"Can I help you?"

She was silent for moment, considering her reply before speaking. "Did you really mean all that you just said?"

Joseph decided to overlook the fact that she had clearly eavesdropped on his conversation, "yes."

"I see."

"Does that make you angry?"

Ellaine looked away, "no, just disappointed." She looked away, but when he made attempt to renew the conversation she continued, "I guess I was starting to believe there was more to you than that."

"Yes, everyone seems to think that. I really can't imagine why."

"I can."

"Oh," he gave her a curious look, "and why is that?"

"Simply because of your conduct you have displayed throughout this voyage sir. There is no denying that your people skills leave much to be desired, you are frequently aloof and rather rude and you make no effort to get to know those who wish to know you better. Yet in spite of that, when things are at their most desperate you always come through for us. You proved yourself during that attack by the sea serpent, you rescued those crewmen from a bar room brawl back in Magritta, and when we were all fighting for our freedom on board the galley and all hope seemed lost you came and turned the tide. In the eyes of many these actions would make you a hero, the men look up to you and respect you now."

"I see. Well they can think what they please. I simply did my job to the best of my ability. That is all."

"Oh."

For the second time Joseph found himself the cause of an uncomfortable silence. He decided to change the subject.

"How's your eye?"

Ellaine put a hand to the afflicted area. The swelling had gone down over the last two days and she was now able to open it without too much discomfort. "It feels better thank you, though it still hurts to touch."

"Let me see," without warning he placed two fingers under her chin, gently turned her face to him and leaned closer till their faces were almost touching. Ellaine froze, too surprised to react. She felt his breath on her cheek, her good eye examining his face as his fingers gently brushed over the discoloured flesh with such gentleness that she barely felt it.

Abruptly he broke the contact, "it's healing well, with any luck the swelling should go down in a couple of days. Try to avoid touching it if you can, it will not help."

"Yes um…thank you for that, I…"

Joseph smiled when he saw her blush, "the pleasure was mine."

Looking away hastily, Ellaine searched her mind for something else to talk about.

"Could you tell me more about what happened that night?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know what happened once you came aboard the galley, but I have been unable to find out what exactly took place on board this ship prior to your arrival."

"Has you maid not told you everything?"

"Yes," here Ellaine's brows dipped in a frown, "but she is being strangely tight-lipped. There's something she's not telling me, and I can see that it burdens her greatly. All she has said so far is that you slew the corsairs and rescued her."

Joseph shrugged, "that is correct."

"Well I am very grateful to you for that. But, and I hope you will not be offended if I say that it does seem… well…rather strange that you could take out so many men by yourself."

Joseph turned away to rest both elbows on the guardrail again, "I suppose I just got lucky, and if your maid has any more to say then I'm sure that she will tell you when she is ready."

"Do you think so?"

"I'm sure."

"Truly?"

"Yes. How is she by the way?"

"She is feeling better now, in fact much better than she has been for several weeks."

"I understand you have had help with that."

"Yes, Mr Armittage has been most kind to her lately. I am grateful for his help." She studied him closely for a moment, and then shrugged. "What will you do when we reach Miraglianno?"

"Oh I have one or two errands to run once we reach port," his thoughts strayed briefly to the wooden box now tucked away under the floorboards of his cabin once again. Finding the green stone again had been a relief, and smuggling it away from the commodore's cabin had been easier than he had expected. Luckily, in all the confusion, no one had raised any questions. Finding the company agent should be simple enough, and perhaps it would go some way to soothing their attitude towards him should he be called up to testify against them. And of course there would be more immediate matters to address once they reached harbour.

"What about yourself."

"There is…someone I need to find, a relative who need s my help."

"This relative, are they in some sort of trouble?"

She hesitated, not wanting to discuss the matter with someone whom she did not know that well, but on the other hand.

"Yes."

"Then if you should find yourself in need help, look for me. I will quite likely be looking for work."

"Thank you, I might just do that."

They fell silent after that, both of them seemingly content to pass the time in one another's company. Leaning on the guardrail the elven mercenary and the Bretonnian noblewoman looked out at the distant horizon, watching as the white specks of the seagulls skimmed low over the sea, occasionally vanishing from sight as they dived in search of prey.

A-A-A

In the depths of the hold, hidden beneath a layer of loose plants, the vampire stirred. Deep in its ancient rotting flesh a strange sensation stirred. Somehow it had sensed the gradual approach of land and with that feeling there had come the realisation that it must be ready to move when the ship dropped anchor.

_Time to be making plans._

The End

A-A-A

OOC: Well, finally we reach the end of the story, just over one month short of three years since I began it. When I first sat down I had no idea it was going to take this long, nor did I anticipate the number of times I would put it away only to come back months later to continue it. It really has been an on-and-off project.

I would like to say thank you to everyone who has read my story, and especially to the people who took the time to review it, I really appreciate it and found the tips given very useful. Hope you'll all read my next story when I finally get it posted.

A-A-A


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